


My Pillar, My Beacon

by HikaruAdjani



Series: My Pillar, My Beacon [1]
Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 76
Words: 186,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikaruAdjani/pseuds/HikaruAdjani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a pillar of strength and a beacon of light to hold the dark side at bay. Luckily, the crew of the Ebon Hawk has both... (fem Revan/Carth) Spoilers. No... SPOILERS. (Mature content warning, lemons, language.) This first part (yes, you read that right) is based on a what if...What if Carth and femRevan were a couple well before the reveal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The apartment was cold and there was that incessant dripping sound from somewhere, but a search for it had turned up nothing. The man sighed, shaking his head, before resting his forehead back on the pillow of his arms. He sat on the floor, his back against the only bed in the whole place. He should do...something. For her.

He craned his neck to take another look at the woman, carefully bundled in the bed behind him. He didn't even know her name, things had gone badly so quickly, and then she'd been unconscious and beyond asking. "Hey." He tried again, knowing it was futile. Unconscious was unconscious. At least she was quiet now, yesterday had been worse than today. She'd been delirious, fretful and way too hot to the touch then, but now she was still and chilled. He glanced down at the field med screen, forcing his gaze to ignore the scarlet admonition that he should seek medical attention for her as soon as possible. She'd just have to pull through without that, he wasn't carrying her any further through the streets of an enemy held world. And he wasn't leaving her here, helpless. No, he'd wait. Just as he had been for the past three days. And he'd keep caring for her as best he could. It had to be enough. If only he could have found a better place to hole up with her, someplace warmer, safer...but the galaxy was filled with his if only dreams. If only...

He fought that back into its corner, narrowing his eyes. Oh, no, he wasn't going there, not now. He shouldn't be thinking of a dead woman when he should be fighting for the living one, his crew-mate, behind him. He stood, torn. On one hand, there was so much he should be doing... finding other survivors from the Endar Spire. Finding Bastila. Not waiting around this apartment, doing nothing.

No, not nothing. He sat back on the edge, gazing at the woman for a long moment. He was helping a survivor, for all he knew, possibly the last other than himself. And Bastila was a Jedi. If she was still alive, then she should be more capable of taking care of herself than he could. But this one needed him.

"Hey." He murmured again, resting the back of his hand against her forehead. She was trembling, chill to the touch, and he grimaced. There really was only one answer to this... much as he'd prefer to avoid the obvious. He took his jacket and boots off, cautiously sliding under the emergency blankets he had pulled from the escape pod's survival gear. He'd had barely enough time to do that, and pick her up to vanish into the corridors of Taris, ahead of any Sith patrols tracking the pod's fall. It was a wonder she had survived, the impact had been devastating, and her side of the pod had taken the brunt of it. She was a fighter, he could sense it. All she needed was a hand, someone to help pull her through. And no one had ever accused him of turning his back on someone who needed him.

Her shivering calmed down at the wash of his body heat, and he smiled slightly, staring at her profile as he relaxed. He hadn't realized just how tired he was, piloting through the Endar Spire's end had been stressful, the evacuation and crash more so, and last night had been a sleepless one. He'd been running on adrenaline, but it was quickly fading. He was prone, in a dim, quiet room. He would have through that the idea of a woman in the same bed would be a reminder, bitter enough to keep him awake, but her proximity wasn't as awkwardly disturbing as he had been counting on. He focused on her features, trying to mesh them with just a few moments of memories from the Endar Spire... when she had been awake, aware, and on her own feet.

She was not a big one, thankfully he'd been able to pick her and the survival gear up in one go, easily enough. Average height for a woman. Average build. Not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, she had an austere, chiseled face...as if her features had been rationed, nothing extra, nothing more. She had pale eyes when they were open, he vaguely remembered that, but as to which shade, he was uncertain. He'd been in a rush to get her, the last crew member on board the Spire, off of the Spire. The emergency lighting had been on, coloring her all in reds and pinks. If he had to guess, he'd hazard her eyes were light blue. Her hair was dead straight, true black. Again, it seemed as if she'd been given some sort of short shrift, just hair. No curls, no wave, no bounce. And the length was equally unimpressive, too long to be short, and too short to be long. That made sliding up next to her easier, he was confident that he could behave himself, and after just a moment, he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Sarah woke in a strange place. In a strange bed. With a strange man's arm slung over her hips. And she felt like she had come out fifth best in the world's worst bar fight. No, worse...this felt like death, barely dodged. She fixed a stare on the sleeping man with her, wary. He was only vaguely familiar, she'd seen him before. She should be able to place a name to him, as well. But she didn't know him. She ran through what she did know in her mind, carefully cataloging her surroundings. Man. Check. Bed, check. It wasn't truly large enough for a couple, especially since her rather cozy companion was not a small one. There were no blankets, only crinkly and pathetic reflective emergency foil panels. She was still mostly dressed. He was still dressed.

And she was in a spare, dingy apartment. That was wrong. She was supposed to be on a ship... Surely she hadn't gotten intoxicated enough to take this guy, or be taken by this guy, to some truly cheap ass place like this? And get drunk enough to have the shit beaten out of her...? That made no sense, she'd never been that sort of woman. Certainly the man was appealing enough, but she didn't sense that the obvious was the truth...

He shifted, grumbled, and opened his eyes. Utter confusion crossed his face, stunned denial, and he sat up. That was a maneuver she wasn't willing to try yet, and she made a protesting cough when he let all of the warm air out. The apartment was not only dingy, it was freezing. "I don't know who you are, but lie back down." She muttered, and he obliged, awkwardly trying to find where to put his limbs without actually touching her again. "I.. uh... This isn't what it looks like." He sputtered in a hurry, watching her warily. He had a nice voice. Nice eyes. Not bad, not bad at all.

"Then what is it?" She should remember. All she was certain of was that he was blameless, she remembered...him. Grabbing her wrist, pushing her towards the escape pod. "We evacuated the Spire."

His expression was openly relieved, thankful. It gave him a boyish, earnest look...or maybe that was just how he always looked. He didn't seem to be that young, but he looked it. "You remember. After your concussion, I wasn't sure..."

The pause said it all. He hadn't been sure she was going to wake up, much less remember what had happened. "Yeah. We did. Our pod crashed, or was shot down... I'm betting on the latter. You were injured."

"How did I get here?" Wherever here was, exactly.

"I carried you." He gave her a slight smile, two loose locks of hair falling over his brow. "I have to admit, though, that I never caught your name. It's been a little...bizarre...watching over you without knowing it."

"Sarah. And you're...?"

The relief faded slightly from his face, his eyes were measuring, concerned. "Ah. Carth. I'd shake your hand, but that would let your heat out."

Carth. Carth. Carth...Onasi? She'd been cared for by, and was now giving an eye to the great Carth Onasi? It figured. "We're on Taris, Captain Onasi?" It was a little late to try to glue that back together, but she'd give it a decent try.

"Carth. Please. I mean...hell, we're in the same bed, we should be on a first name basis."

Yeah. Hell. What better way to put it? "Taris?" She questioned again, and he nodded.

"Yes, we're on Taris." He sat up, carefully tucking the foil in around her. "Now that you're awake, we'll be able to see just where we're sitting. It's imperative that we meet up with Bastila and get her off of Taris."

"How long has it been?" She sensed it had been long enough, and his expression confirmed it.

"You've been out for three days. Yesterday wasn't bad, the day before was the worst. I though I was going to lose you." His voice made it obvious that he would have considered that a terrible blow, even though he barely knew her. "Glad to see you open your eyes." He stared for a second, and then chuckled. "I thought they were blue."

"Nooo." They were gray, actually. "Three days. And we're it?" That couldn't be. If they had lost Bastila, then it was all over. That was a blow they might never recover from...

"I don't know, I haven't left here. Been lying low." He studied her, growling slightly when she tried to get her elbows underneath her to sit up. "Not yet." He passed her her own blaster pistol back, shrugging into his jacket and boots. "I'm going to go see if I can't find us some food and maybe some intel."

He was gone in an instant, the firm snick of the locks setting the door behind him. Sarah let him be gone for a good bit before she painfully managed to sit up and took stock of her aches and pains. There was a med screen on the floor beside her, and she caught it with a foot, turning it so that she could see its readout. Either Onasi had tampered with it, or he was telling the truth. It had been running non stop for over seventy two hours, charting her progress over that time, and what she saw was sobering. She had just come way too close to dying, and she owed him her life.


	2. Chapter 2

She finally talked herself into standing, it was probably foolish, but she was filthy and needed to pee. Bad. And she'd prefer to get as much of that sort of intimate care done before he came back. He'd obviously been forced to do too much of it already, but that was something she just needed to blank out. That was fine, blanking things out had always been a gift that Sarah possessed in spades. So many things were missing from her memories that she had long since taken the ability to forget as just part of her makeup. She was left with feelings, gut reactions to things. Although she could not remember ever waking up in bed with a man before, which should mean that she hadn't...ever... that internal knowledge laughed at that idea. She'd been with a man, or men, before. Somehow she knew that, understood that, even if she couldn't remember how, why, where or when. Ordinarily, that should mean some sort of trauma, but finding him in bed with her had definitely not spawned any sort of trauma induced reaction. She had been comforted by him, not terrified.

She relieved herself, trembling in the cold, and cleaned up as best she could, scraping her hair into a tail at the nape of her neck. When that was done, she came back to the small bed and wrapped one of the emergency blankets around her shoulders while she studied the med screen readout. Her first cynical thought had been that he had harshly rationed the med pacs that should have come with the screen, wisely giving her only enough to pull her through. She would hardly blame him, but the unit denied that. He'd used everything at his disposal, in a timely manner. She had just been that badly off.

He was gone for less than an hour, warily moving through the door as if he expected her to shoot him down. He grinned when he caught sight of her, sitting upright, and still wide awake, and it definitely seemed that the earnest look was his permanent mode. It seemed odd, her soul whispered that she had once had a taste for less wholesome sorts, but she saw no reason to hold that against him. There were many worse things to be trapped with than what certainly seemed to be a truly nice guy.

A waft of smell preceded him and she blinked. He smelled like food. Hot food. Not field rations...and she was suddenly famished. "I have food." He noted unnecessarily, and she nodded expectantly. She knew that. "I want you to start with the soup. If you can hold that down, we'll try something more substantial. And I got blankets, too."

And she loved him completely and fully in that moment, taking the cup of soup from him and peeling off the lid to take a deep smell of the contents while he pulled the emergency blanket from her shoulders and replaced it gently with a heavy, fuzzy blanket. It smelled not quite right, but she was willing to let it go. She was an easy sort to manage, happy with a cup of what could only be gizka soup and a blanket that smelled of its last owner. "It's good." She mumbled through a mouthful, and he smiled reassuringly. She would have lied in a heartbeat to make him feel better, even if the soup had been horrible, but it wasn't and it was good to not have to lie.

"You're looking much better." He noted, relief obvious in his voice. "Good, because we really need to get our bearings here."

Of course. Taris was under Sith control, and had both Carth Onasi and Bastila Shan down on it. To lose those two would be a blow that the Republic couldn't afford. Sarah was a nothing in this, just another Republic grunt, but the Republic's finest pilot and her best practitioner of the Force gifted battle meditation... without them, the Fleet might as well just hang it all up and surrender. "I'm good." She stated. She had to be, there simply wasn't any time to not be. He'd already wasted so much time taking care of her...when the smartest thing would have been to leave her. She was unimportant in the larger scheme of things, but he hadn't. She'd make it worth his time and effort, however she could. "We need to find Bastila." Hopefully, Bastila was alive to get off of Taris. Both she and Onasi needed to be off of this world as quickly as possible. Too damned valuable to be here. And, well, Sarah didn't want to be here, either. As a commonplace Republic soldier, her death would probably at least be quick and relatively painless...there was nothing to gain by drawing it out. But Carth, his death would be long, painful, drawn out and filmed for all the Republic to see. Hardly something that a hero of the Republic, what she now realized was probably just a really nice guy, deserved. And Bastila would not have the luxury of death.

No, the only answer was that Sarah needed to suck it up and do what needed to be done. Now. She stood, setting her balance to accept her weight.

"No." Carth disputed, and she glanced over at him. He was eating something off of a stick, and his pose made it very obvious that he was going nowhere, fast. "We've waited this long. It only makes sense to wait a little bit longer. A hard wind would knock you over like this. Eat. Sleep. And we'll move out in the morning."

"Finding Bastila, and getting the two of you off of Taris is much more important."

And he did an earnest and completely stubborn look quite well, pointedly relaxing. It was obvious, she wasn't going to move him. He was much larger than she was, and he outranked her by a hell of a lot. If he was determined to stay put, then he was staying put, and by extension she was staying put. "Does this place not have a heater?" She asked, and he shrugged.

"No." He answered, "That's not just an excuse to share the bed with you. The unit looks like it was cannibalized a long time ago...it's a miracle we have water and lights from what I can see. We're not in the best of neighborhoods."

"Probably the best." A bad neighborhood was one not completely under the sway of the Sith occupation. They had more of a chance to hide that way. His response was to merely offer her one of the sticks, and she eyed it thoughtfully. The question really wasn't what it was, but how well her stomach would handle it. She decided it was worth the risk, and accepted it, sitting next to him while she slowly ate. Her belly full, it was all too easy to let her lids fall, and she slipped back into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Carth sighed, the sound tinged with utter sadness. She had fallen asleep, dropped like a rock exactly as he'd figured she would once she had something solid in her stomach and real blankets over her. Her head was pillowed in his lap, and against his better judgment, he smoothed her hair gently. He hated times like this, when it hit him so hard. Normally, he would go do something until he could chase the memories away. If he just kept busy enough, he could hold it at bay. But now, he was locked in a tiny apartment with her...and she was pushing every button to remind him that it had been a very long time since he'd been this close to a woman. And there was nothing to distract himself with here...no vid feeds, not even a damned window to stare out of. He was alone with his thoughts, with his memories. "Well, hell." He marveled softly, lacing his fingers in her hair. He couldn't have been lucky enough to crash with a guy, could he? No. Of course not. Luck laughed in his face, as always. He carefully slid down in the bed, awkward until she shifted slightly to give him room. Bad, bad idea.

Yeah, and so was sleeping on the cold, hard floor. He was too damned old for that now. When he was younger, he could bounce back. Now, he just bounced...no return journey involved. He made a defeated noise and slung an arm over her belly, shifting until he was finally comfortable. To hell with it all. She seemed to take to him well enough, and hopefully she wouldn't kill him if she felt a morning erection between them. That was beyond his control, and while he wasn't young...he wasn't that old, either. Neither was she... Not that young, but definitely not that old. But old enough to know better, thankfully. She hadn't melted into a weird puddle, even though she had to realize how much care he'd been forced to give her. No stutters, no blushes, no outrage. She just accepted it, and he was truly grateful. Now, they just had to find Bastila and get the hell out of here, before they were discovered. He had no deep rooted desire to die as a martyr to the Republic's cause, if he was suicidal, he'd have gone that route years ago... and he'd have done it in a much less painful way than the Sith would give him.

He woke up, not at all surprised that many of his fears had come to pass. He was wrapped up around her, one arm slung over her belly, his face in her hair, his hips pressed against her buttocks. And he did indeed have that morning erection...maybe if he just extricate himself carefully, she would be none the wiser. "Morning." She breathed against his forearm, the one she was using as a pillow, and he clenched his jaw. No, no extrication if she had awoken before he did.

"I'm..." What? Sorry? Horrified? Weak? Appalled? Well, yes, yes, yes and yes.

"You're just fine." Her voice was supremely calm, gentle, and she shifted out of his grasp. She looked a hundred percent better than she had just the night before, and she stood easily enough. She moved a little stiffly, a little slowly, but with no wobbling or real hesitation. "Let's go find Bastila."

Ah, so she was going to give him a reprieve, and he was more than willing to take it. He slid out of the bed, pulling his trousers straight, and settled his blasters in their holsters. "Agreed."

She nodded, settling her own pistol belt down, tying with the grace of long practice. "Can I ask you something?" He began, and she glanced at him curiously. "What do you do? I mean... I know you were a last minute addition to the Spire's crew. That means I never got the chance to meet you, to know you..." In fact, that stank. He knew she wasn't one of the Spire's flight crew, he knew all of those, he'd vetted them, trained them and worked alongside them. No, she had come at the demand of the Jedi council, when his ship had been commandeered to be Bastila Shan's conveyance. And, in the period that Bastila had been on the Spire's bridge, this one was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't been in the officer's bunks, in the mess, or anywhere else that he'd seen. That had put her in the aft, with the grunts. The Jedi had demanded this, but she seemed to have no connection with Bastila whatsoever... at least that he could see. It was difficult to figure out the Jedi, and he rarely tried, except in situations like this. He had to depend on her...

"Recon. Insertion." She gave him a half smile. "I speak lots of languages, I don't stand out, I have good security skills and I'm a decent shot."

And that all sounded wonderful, except it raised even more questions why she was on the Spire in the first place. Why would the Jedi want him to have this? Why would Bastila's presence call for it? Had they foreseen this? Had the Force itself hinted to them that he would be crashed on Taris, in desperate need of the skills she had so blithely just ticked off? It was a possibility, he supposed. He tried to ignore shit like this, he didn't understand it, and it bothered him. He tended to see betrayal, maneuverings, not 'the Force', and even when he did, that was no guarantee that it was benign. He knew that better than most people did. The greatest destroyers were those loved by the Force... Revan had been a superlative example of a Jedi...and an even more superlative example of a Darth. That debacle had cost Carth his wife, his son, his homeworld,cost his government millions of lives and was still grinding on. And it would continue to...unless he didn't find Bastila. "Let's go, Sarah." He murmured, and she nodded, falling into step with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah had to admit, at least to herself, that his embarrassment was almost endearing. She'd never hint it to his face, but his expression had given it all away. Poor guy, all flustered over a hard on.

"So." She said, deliberately keeping the chuckle out of her voice. "What do we know, other than the obvious?" The obvious...the Sith held Taris. Bastila was nowhere to be seen. They had no ship. Somehow, the very weight of this should bother her more than it did. But few things honestly did bother her, she'd always faced her life with a nearly unflappable calm, as if she'd been through so much worse...but just couldn't place it. She just felt numb, anesthetized, when things got bad. "I..."

Knew Taris. She'd been here before, but couldn't recall when. Or why. She knew it was a cityscape, skyscraper cheek to jowl with skyscraper, not an empty, distant spot on the whole world. She knew without thought that it had never been a favored place, that she had always viewed it with some level of disgust. "Have been here before, but it's been awhile." As always, the memories slipped away, leaving the personal details out, but the concrete details remained intact. She pushed the thought away, she didn't have time for this. Even when she did, it didn't help. It was as if the more she focused on them, the more they slid away.

"I doubt if it's improved in your absence." He muttered, and she nodded. Things had been ugly then, and couldn't have been bettered by a Sith occupation. The worst of Tarisian society's views would only be inflated by the fuel of its new occupiers.

The hallway beyond the door was much more brightly lit than the apartment, and she blinked against the glare, depending on her other senses in that moment of weakness. But the hallway was also empty, echoing. It was obviously circular, fading from her view in each direction. It had an oppressive, watchful feel and she rested her fingertips on her blaster, her gaze moving to Carth. It was obvious that he felt it as well, his jaw had tightened and his eyes were narrowed... but they couldn't stay holed up forever. Even if they didn't have to find Bastila, they had to move... eventually the Sith would find them. She forced herself to stride along with Carth, matching his speed and stance, making it look as if they'd been together long enough to click together. Two strangers living together, traveling together, invited too many questions. And the fewer questions they got, the better. Let it look as if they were comfortable, at ease, long term.

It didn't take long to realize that the apartments were not empty, but it certainly seemed like the residents were going out of their way to avoid the pair. She caught glimpses of forms ducking into doorways, heard those doors locking behind them.

"Nice." Carth muttered under his breath, and she nodded slightly. How were they supposed to gather intel when no one would stick around long enough to be seen, much less questioned?

"Where'd you get the food last night?" She asked, and he shrugged.

"From the upper city, I pass well enough." He glanced her up and down, and looked less convinced at that. "You will somewhat."

She knew what she looked like already. She was wearing the only set of clothing she now had, and that had gone through a devastating crash...on her skin. It smelled of smoke, and was stained with blood and soot. "Somewhat?"

He made a scrunchy face, and managed to look even younger when he did so. "You're human." He noted bitterly, and she sighed. Taris had been a very intolerant society before the Sith came. Now, the two would just feed off of each other, xenophobia and judgment all wrapped up. "Especially if you don't talk."

"That goes for you as well." He had a rather distinctive voice, and it suffered the same flaw as hers own did... they were both from somewhere out in the Outer Rim, far from Taris. Far from the Empire. She could, if she had to, put on a convincing Imperial accent, but it wouldn't fit with her present appearance. No, it was best to stick with her natural voice...for now.

"I know." He chuckled. "We'll see about getting you some clothes. You'll stick out less..."

Probably. Blood tended to draw attention. She had never been the sort who attracted much attention, easily overlooked, average looking... but here on Taris, things were different. It was a newly occupied world, and those were always filled with paranoia. Even the most mundane would run the risk of focus, the last thing she wanted. And if she stood out, then he shone. How the hell did they hide him? What a mess. What an absolute mess.

He chuckled, and then paused. A single male twi'lek stood in front of them, manning a thrown together vendor's kiosk, warily watching the two of them come. He oozed worry, and Sarah measured him for a split second. He was almost to the point of running...

"Hey!" She greeted sunnily, ignoring Carth's curious glance in her direction. He then stepped back, shadowing her as she moved forward to the kiosk. "Whatcha got?" She broadened her Outer Rim accent, making it obvious that she couldn't sound further from an Imperial if she tried.

"Best things, best prices!" The twi'lek was still not convinced yet, his gaze going from her face to Carth's. "You two must be the new ones... I didn't expect you to be...human."

"Yeah." She leaned in, gazing at the small items arrayed on the counter. "My name's Sarah." It was, just like the rest of her, perfectly normal and innocuous. Forgettable. "This is my husband, Devid." She gave Carth a slight motion. Play it straight. Don't overplay it. And pray that Carth played the same. He remained admirably straight faced, if a little silent, his gaze locked on her. That would work, he was coming off as the watchful spouse. Now, she just had to hear what she needed to know, without letting on that she didn't know.

"Ah." He was deliberately avoiding looking at the largest blood stains, his eyes locked on her face. "Terrible to be stuck here, with all the others."

Stuck. Interesting, she wasn't aware that 'all the others' were stuck as well. She grasped that she and Onasi would be...they couldn't just wander up to the spaceport and book passage off. The world was under Sith control...

"Yes." She sighed, embroidering the single syllable with equal parts exasperation and worry.

"They'll lift the quarantine eventually. They can't leave Taris locked down forever."

So, Taris was locked down. Fascinating. While the Sith tended to grip onto to their new acquisitions with a tight fist, to completely lock down a world was harsh even for them. Quarantine? Medical? Something stirred in her unreliable memories that said that was entirely too possible...

"Not soon enough." Nothing on the table in front of her was out of place, nothing was obviously from any of the Endar Spire's escape pods. It was just the usual hodgepodge of salvaged items that these tended to have. Come on, come on, keep talking...

"When they find what they're looking for, it'll stop."

Bastila. Only finding Bastila would be that important. They don't have her...yet.

"How much for the shirt?" She'd barely glanced at it, but it fulfilled most of her needs...it was a shirt, it was intact, unbloodied, and it would more than cover her.

"Five credits."

She gave Carth a sideways glance, not even bothering to hide it. Did they have the money? It fit their circumstances, fictional and real.

"Fine." He stated with a bare nod, handing her a crumpled bill.

"You two have a ship?" The twi'lek asked, and she shook her head. No, that would be too easily disproved. Having a ship wasn't easily faked, especially without access to a dock, to a computer system to spike into.

"Nah." She handed him the money, taking the shirt from him. "We're transit pilots. On the return leg." It was easy, just let the story flow. Don't make too much of it. See it in her mind, make it real, and let it out. This was her job, it was what she was good at. As long as Carth stayed on the right page, it was good. "Thanks." She grinned, "We'll see you around."

She stepped away, pulling the shirt over her bloodied one and following a silent Carth to the hallway that must lead out from the apartments. She was waiting for something, teasing, questioning, even outrage, but he gave her none of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Carth knew when he was watching a professional at work. What he understood as her normal mode, a quiet, easily overlooked sort, had faded. Her features were nimble, everything about her was open and approachable. She just invited confidence, camaraderie, hell, he'd be tempted to tell her everything. Although she never paused, never faltered, never blinked or hesitated, he knew she was making the entire thing up as she went along. And what she said made perfect sense. A married couple of transport pilots stuck here in the aftermath of the Sith occupation of Taris. It explained everything. Why they had no ship, no money, no affiliation, but were together. It was a little hard to swallow a woman he barely knew claiming something that only one woman had ever been able to, to be his wife, but he understood her approach. And he'd certainly never undermine her work by contradicting it. That would be tantamount to holding up a sign which read: "Republic soldier behind enemy lines." He had no illusions...if he was captured, that would all too quickly spin into "Highly decorated Republic soldier held by Empire." Which ended in a fairly obvious way, one he'd prefer to avoid. This was what he got for being assigned as Bastila Shan's driver, an honor, and a grave responsibility. Why hadn't she sensed the Imperial Flagship, Leviathan, lying in wait? If he'd just had some warning, any warning...

Hell, who was he fooling? The Spire had been yanked out of hyperspace, stagnated, blinded, by the main Imperial flagship. There was nothing he could have done, and it was just one more failure that Karath had heaped upon him. One more indignity, one more blow...

A touch, gentle as moonlight, landed on the back of his hand, and he was startled out of his reverie. She was staring at him out of those pale gray eyes, a faint line of concern between her dark brows. The amiable mask was gone, he had her back...calm, serene and focused deeply on him. It was an oddly soothing feeling, as if the very weight of her presence, her attention, could push back his internal demons. Oddly, he felt safe around her, and there were plenty of reasons why safe should be the furthest thing from his mind. He didn't know her, and he'd never been quick to trust. "What?" He demanded, and she shrugged.

"You seemed a little far away."

"Right." And he shouldn't be. He needed to be right here, right now, not woolgathering. That would only get him killed, get her killed, and lose Bastila...the only chance that the Republic had to get through this. He could think about it all later, when...if...he got the chance. He just needed to focus on the task at hand.

It was late afternoon outside, and he blinked against the low sunlight. If he just glanced across the expanse, rooted by skyscrapers, it would look normal. Even wholesome, people going about their business, small groups, the occasional couple walking with entwined fingers. Children being children. But he caught too much he knew to be out of place... everything he saw was human. Not a single member of an alien race to be seen, and all of those humans were guarded by Sith troopers moving openly through the crowds. He wanted to watch them warily, to measure it all, but she stepped around him and headed forward, like she owned the place. No, like she belonged, leaving him little choice but to trail in her wake. That was fine, if she wanted to be the one to do the talking, to stick her nose into places while he followed and did his best too look ominous and protective, he'd do it. He was a pilot. He was a damned good pilot. On days when he was in a good mood, he'd even give himself the pat on the back to say he was one of the best alive, on both sides. When he was slightly intoxicated, he'd add on any side to it, and count himself equal to just about any around. His specialty was medium sized fleet vessels, large enough to pack a punch, yet still small enough for maneuverability. But that was simply his preference, he could fly damned near anything. He was a decent shot, if he had to be, had completed ground training with high marks, but he was not a ground pounder.

And he certainly was not any sort of recon or intel gatherer, he was much more likely to say something untoward, to beg trouble than someone with that sort of calling, that sort of training. She obviously had it, and he was more than willing to let her use it.

She seemed to be wandering at random, but he knew better. She avoided the largest groups of Sith guards, melded with passersby when her path brought her too close to them, but she still scouted quickly and easily. She checked every shop, every kiosk, chatted merrily with salespeople, before finally finding a cantina and slipping in. He followed closely, glancing over the crowd. Again, all of the patrons were human. The band, the dancers, not. It creeped him out, subtly, and he stared at the tail of hair on the back of Sarah's head. Focus...focus. He couldn't change a damned thing about Taris, it was all beyond his control. He needed to back up Sarah, and find Bastila. Come up with a plan to get all of them off of this planet, out of the hands of the Sith, and back to the Republic. That was his duty. He just had to keep that in mind.

She moved through the crowds, pausing occasionally to listen to an ongoing conversation, before she took a seat at a table towards the back, and he took the seat next to her without pause. He'd been married long enough to know how to play this game, as painful as that memory was. "Want a drink?" He asked, and she gazed at him for a long moment.

"Can we afford it?"

"Sure." It had been pretty easy to sell the useless survival gear in the packs... Taris was an ecumenopolis, they had no need of snow gear, climbing gear, tent, etc. Why people here had been willing to buy it from him, he was uncertain, but they had. "Why?"

She stared beyond him for a moment before extending her hand out in the universal request. His wife had done just that same thing, in pretty much the same manner. And later, his son. "How much?" He sighed in defeat, and she shrugged.

"I don't know, yet."

Oh, that was a dangerous statement if he'd ever heard one. It was even more dangerous when she took every credit he had, nodded, and headed resolutely towards the pazaak tables in the back room. He could only stare after her, before hiding his face in his hands. Just his luck.

"I know that look." And Carth certainly didn't know the voice, but he dropped his hands to stare at the stranger who had decided to strike up a conversation with him. He had the look of a ship's pilot about him, and Carth composed himself, gathering his wits about him. Hopefully he would not be recognized... "She any good?"

Carth could only hope that the 'good' in question referred to pazaak, and not something else. He was not in the mood for a cantina fight, especially when the authorities most likely to respond to it were the Sith he was trying to evade. "She better be, today." He chuckled wryly, staring into his drink.

"Your...wife?"

"Yeah." It was amazingly easy to say that, and oddly, he felt like the statement didn't fall flat. He stood, finally gathering the nerve to move up behind her, to watch. If she just broke even, he'd be content. If she could win a little, he'd be ecstatic.

And...if she was a pazaak shark, he'd be damn near orgasmic. She played with the same approachable smile she walked through the door with, plied the table with the same chitchat, and completely eviscerated her challengers. And she stood up just when the table's mood changed, right when it was going to start to get ugly and confrontational, waving at the nearest waitress. "Round for the table." She said, grabbing Carth's elbow as she turned. "It's getting late."

"Yes, dear." He drawled, falling into step behind her, happy to get out of the cantina and back into the night air. The crowds had thinned, but that simply made the Sith guards that much more obvious. He slung an arm around her shoulder, matching steps with her...doing his best to make it look easy. Just a couple, coming out of the cantina, not drunk, just pleasantly fuzzy around the edges. No problem, no threat.

"You two better hurry. Curfew in twenty minutes." The nearest Sith guard, encapsulated in shiny gold and silver armor, stated. It was odd to hear one of them sound so...human. Almost concerned.

"Oh, shit. Thanks!" She breezed, moving faster, and he happily kept pace. Of course there would be a curfew.

He remained silent until the door shut behind him, leaving them alone again. Her confident stride faded and she sat on the edge of the bed, before finally giving up and lying down. She was doing better, but she wasn't recovered...

"Well?" He asked and she opened an eye to stare at him.

"Nothing. Which means we go down. I'm sure the Sith are still looking for something, and I'm guessing that something is Bastila." She sighed, pulling the credits out of her pocket and counting off several of them, holding them out to him. "Half." She sighed, taking out her new pazaak side deck and ruffling through the cards.

"Half." And that was double what he'd originally given her. "So, Republic scout is your side job? A hobby to supplement your pazaak earnings?"

She chuckled, tucking them back in their box. "No...my pazaak habit is a supplement to my scouting job. It goes with the territory. People talk at a table after awhile, and it's something to do that's less suspicious than sitting around hoping people will talk in front of you. It's also a way to kill time on a ship... little surprised you don't play."

"I play. You don't play." There had been, in spite of her demeanor during it, precious little enjoyment in what she'd done. She'd gone into for money, and for information. She'd gotten both. Carth played socially, for the fun of it, for bonding and camaraderie. She worked at it. And she was damned, damned good at it, almost good enough to make him think she cheated.

"Fair enough." She breathed, shutting her eyes. "You caught me. I don't actually care for pazaak. But we needed the money, the info, and it's a fairly painless way to get it."

"Until you get shot up for cheating."

"Didn't cheat. And I won't go back to that cantina to play, I never do." She remained silent for quite awhile, long enough for him to think she'd fallen asleep, before she spoke again. "Anyway, come to bed. We'll work on getting down lower in the city come morning."

Come to bed. His heart seized and he closed his eyes. Why this? Why now?

"I don't think that's..." What? Wise? Logical? Safe? Unfortunately, it was all of the above. "What we should be doing. It's...improper. I, uh, outrank you." Yeah, that. It was a laughable excuse but the best he could come up with in a pinch. "I'll sleep on the floor." It had been one thing when she was injured, but she was well on the road to recovery.

"You outrank me, and you want to be the one sleeping on the floor." Her voice was gently amused, and he leaned against the wall, staring into the corner. He wanted his cabin back, safely, privately his. Where he could mourn in peace. Where he could avoid facing shit like this, avoid hearing the little voice in his mind that reminded him that it had been years since he'd lost Morgana. He wasn't old. It wouldn't be terrible if he faced up to the fact that he was a thirty eight year old widower, and let some of that drop behind him. Morgana wouldn't have wanted him to be like this, clinging to her memory, and nothing else.

"What if I get ideas?"

"What if I let you get ideas?"

Oh, ouch. He'd hoped for a little subterfuge, but no. This one was about as subtle as an Imperial task force. "You're still not even close to a hundred percent." That was much more of a valid argument, and her glance proved he had that one correct.

"True. So come to bed, keep me warm, and keep your hands to yourself."

He sighed in defeat, sitting on what somehow had become his side of the bed and shedding his boots and jacket. He settled down next to her and she slept almost immediately, further proving the point that neither one of them was ready for anything. She seemed emotionally willing, but physically, no. He was physically able, but emotionally unwilling.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the same dream she had so often, the same room. The same bed. The same man. The same scene. It managed to be so much more vibrant and real than her memories could hope to be. Always, she woke up in an immense bed, swathed in crimson silks, next to a man she never saw. She would stand up, nude as the day she had been born, to walk across the gleaming black floor to the doors hanging ajar onto a balcony. She never went out, but leaned against the windows, half hidden in the lushly patterned drapes, and stared out at home.

It was a majestic, if ominous sight, a great city hidden amongst the trees, filling a gaping wound in the ground. Only the highest buildings rose above the line of the horizon, the rest of it was protected, obscured in the depths. The sky was roiling, turbulent, dark clouds lit by fitful flashes of lightning, but there was no wind. It was as if the very sky itself refused to settle, to calm. It was hot. Humid. She knew that even though her chamber was perfectly the temperature she preferred. Everything here was exactly as she preferred, because she was just that powerful. Even the man... he bowed to her will, if not her whims. He was hers. She dominated him, he was allowed here only because it pleased her to have him like this. Once, it had been different. Once, they'd been close. But in the dream, she wasn't even certain if he was willing or not, and it honestly did not matter. He was her lover of choice, and he got the job done...while his eyes simmered dark resentment the whole time.

It's not real.

The thought, as always, jarred her out of sleep...putting her back into a bed, with a man sleeping next to her. But the differences between here, and where she belonged, were legion. Here made much more sense. She knew where she was, Taris. She knew who she was in a bed with, Carth Onasi. She knew who she was, and who she wasn't. She wasn't naked, her sheets were not crimson silk. And she didn't own the man with her, which was rather a pity, but was also a challenge. And she adored challenges. But her major challenges right now were to find Bastila, and a way off of Taris. Soon. It had to be soon. "Carth." She raised herself up on her elbow and stared down into his face. Even asleep, he still had those persistent two strands of reddish brown hair falling over his brow, and she quelled the urge to brush them back. He opened his eyes, staring at her in confusion for a moment.

"Ah. Good morning, Sarah." He offered with a lopsided grin, and she nodded.

"Up and at 'em, Captain. Let's go get Bastila." The sooner, the better. Taris was beginning to feel a little more oppressive than it should, and she didn't like it. Running out of time...

She just had to figure out a way to get down below the civilized, gilded, and Sith controlled upper city of Taris...because Bastila probably wasn't up here.

He sat up, running his fingers through his hair and yawning. "Right." He stood, stretched, and then sat to put his boots on. "What did you get last night?"

She grunted in disgust. "The only way down is by elevator. And the Sith guard the elevators. We need to get by them." The pazaak players had been more than willing, after awhile, to point her in the direction of the next nearest table and a new set of unwitting targets... which was exactly what she'd been aiming for. The money would be useful, of course, but her true motivation had been to push them to the point where they'd want to get rid of her, but not far enough for an open confrontation. To be just annoying enough in her behavior and skills to be sent on her way, but not enough to gain true enemies to get in her way. "Means we need to take out a patrol." This early in an occupation, the Sith should not have had time to set up an adequate security net, especially if they were busy trying to maintain a planet wide lock down. They had to be pushed to the limits, and she needed to use that to her advantage. Keeping a couple of displaced space rats upstairs instead of down, where they would actually belong, couldn't be high on their priority list. But she'd still have to get past the guards. "Tell me about Bastila."

"Eh?" He gave her a distinctly odd look, as if that was the strangest question she could ask him.

"Bastila. The Jedi we're looking for...it would be helpful if I knew what she looks like. It might just make finding her easier..."

Somehow, that question truly unnerved him. "Bastila? But...you should know what she looks like. You were part of her detail."

I should know what she looks like. I was part of her detail. That was news to Sarah. "I was told that the Spire was under-crewed, that I was a last minute filler for her compliment."

"Uh...no." He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, staring at her. "When the Spire was assigned to Bastila, the Jedi Council added you as part of the compliment. It was one of their demands when they took control of my ship. They made it very clear that you were part of the package, that you went with Bastila."

"I've never met Bastila Shan. I've never seen her..."

The young woman leaning over her was beautiful, her hand very warm as she clenched Sarah's fingers in her own. "You have to hold on." She breathed, as if she could will that into the very syllables. "You have to stay with me. Look at me! Stay with me!"

"Really?" It was obvious that his trust was warring with his cynicism. "What does Bastila look like? Er... she's very pretty, I would say. Young, just a little taller than you." He made a vaguely embarrassed motion over his chest down to his hips, suggesting a more bounteous figure than Sarah happened to possess. "Brown hair, gray eyes. Wears her hair in two little tails. Kind of a snotty voice."

Yes, that definitely matched the woman that Sarah didn't remember, but did. She'd know her when she saw her...again.


	7. Chapter 7

Carth took a deep, long breath and held it. What in the hell was going on? She didn't know Bastila? How could she not? Had she been hurt so badly in the crash that she was having true memory problems, some sort of traumatic amnesia? She seemed almost fine, her responses to almost everything was spot on...until this. "Sarah?" He asked softly, trying to read her expressions. "What's going on?" Something was. He could feel it, sense it.

"Nothing."

"You lie better than that." She was a consummate actress, he'd seen her in action. That was a pathetic attempt, at best.

"I don't know why I was put on the Spire." She spread her hands. "It was supposed to be my return to service... I had an illness. I was in a coma on Coruscant...and since then, my memories haven't been quite right. I should have let you know sooner, I guess. But I swear, I do not remember meeting Bastila. All I get is a flash, a snippet..."

"Of?"

"Of a woman who matches that description telling me I have to stay with her. I have to hang on. But there's nothing with it, no context, no sense."

"Maybe you met her after you were already sick? It sounds like that to me." Why, why, put this on the Spire? Was Bastila responsible for her care? Watching over a charge that she had helped save from a terrible illness, but doing it from a distance? That made sense, and he was willing to take anything that even remotely made any sense.

She frowned thoughtfully. "Yes. I was sick. Very. Well, since it seems that Bastila helped save my life, all the more reason to go get her."

"We need Bastila back. The Republic needs her." Bastila had led the assault team that had killed Darth Revan, giving the Republic a rare victory, a rare blow against the Empire...to deny them Revan, their Dark Lord, their commander, their strategic mastermind. Bastila also possessed the essential force gift of battle meditation, one of the few weapons that the Republic could field against what seemed to be an insurmountable Imperial fleet. For every ship they destroyed, three more appeared... their only real edge was Bastila's gift. And now, she was down somewhere here on Taris. He had to find her, recover her, bring her back to the Republic. It didn't really fit into what he was comfortable with, truly adept at, but he...and Sarah...were the Republic soldiers in place to do this. Unless other members of the Spire's crew showed up, they were the only ones who could find Bastila. "Let's go."

She nodded, her expression a study in calm acceptance. He only wished he could feel the same, but he'd never been a serene sort. His soul railed against injustices, fought against the darkness around him, struggled for peace on a daily basis. "Somehow, we have to find a way down."

"We will." She gave him a fleeting touch on the arm as she moved around him. "You'll see."

Hmmmph. He'd see. He fell into step slightly behind her, shadowing her progress. She seemed to think she knew where she was going, and that was more than he could manage. All he knew was he wanted to go down, and he knew that the most obvious way to get down would simply get him killed...one way or the other.

He heard voices, raised, angry, and she stopped in her tracks, her head tilted thoughtfully as if they were telling her so much more than they were telling him. She nodded, gave him a slight 'go ahead' motion at her shoulder, and stepped fully into the hallway just short of the ruckus. She had committed him, and he moved up quickly to cover her, getting a quick view of the situation. Sith patrol...and he was on the heels of a woman openly toting a blaster. Great. Fanfuckingtastic...

"Hey!" The closest of the Sith, obscured by the shining, segmented silver armor favored by patrol troops, yelped. "You two shouldn't be here, you're...humans!"

His patrol partner was faster on the uptake, already raising his blaster towards Carth. "They must be Republic spies!"

How he'd come to that all too correct assumption, Carth had no clue. He'd been very careful with his own gear, shedding everything that marked him as the captain of the Endar Spire, as Carth Onasi, as a Republic officer. And Sarah had been wearing nothing...absolutely nothing...that would have marked her as such when he'd gone over her unconscious body immediately following the crash. No implants. No tags. Of course, she was supposed to be insertion, it would only make sense that she maintained an unidentifiable, untraceable body.

She had developed an odd expression, puzzled and lopsided, like she smelled something bad, but couldn't figure out just what it was. Her first shot hit the trooper drawing a bead on Carth, and the Sith dropped without a complaint. Carth immediately switched his focus, he knew dead or unconscious when he saw it. No need to shoot the immobile, currently nonthreatening trooper when the other one was still kicking. A second later, he'd stopped that kicking altogether, and stunned silence reigned.

"Nice job." He breathed, moving closer and dropping his attention on the third form in the corridor, a shaking Duros with his hands up. "None of that." He muttered, motioning for him to drop his hands. It gazed at him out of blank eyes and he gave a sheepish shrug. They were damned difficult to read, and Carth had never been particularly adept at that anyway.

And he apparently wasn't that adept at reading females of his own species, because Sarah's expression was still oddly inscrutable... she still had that look, whatever it meant. "You shoot like a Jedi." He said, half hoping to please her, and half to get her to shift out of whatever this mood was. It was like she had taken a step away from him, from everything around her, and he didn't like it.

"Jedi aren't known for their blaster skills." She muttered, but the rebuttal did seem to shift her back into the here and now. "You're fine." She told the Duros, and it certainly didn't sound like any sort of question. It was a little harsh and commanding to be a simple observation, more like a parent considering whether or not to scold a shy child.

"I'm fine." He agreed, "Thank you for your intercession. I will...dispose...of the bodies."

"After we're through with them."

Unfortunately, Carth knew that was coming.


	8. Chapter 8

Sarah watched Carth out of the farthest corner of her eye, while acting as if she wasn't at all. For him to have the slightest hope of fitting into the larger set of armor, he'd have to shuck a whole lot more than just his high vis orange deck jacket and sturdy boots. He'd gotten to see pretty much everything she had, and it was only fair that she got a peek as well. She wasn't expecting a male wonder, he was not exactly young any more, and he had been a pilot for years, warming his ass in a chair. That often led to some pretty chunky examples of stick jockeys in her experience. It was obvious that he had not let himself go that badly, had not drowned his sorrows in calories, but as she'd suspected...and expected...he was not a paragon of brutal fitness. He carried enough weight to pad his edges, and she fought a sudden urge to wrap her arms around his waist, rest her forehead between his shoulder blades... He just looked exactly like he should, a perfectly normal man closer to forty than thirty. Why that was so oddly comforting, so oddly refreshing, so appealing, she couldn't even begun to comprehend, but it was.

"Hush, you." He growled, struggling to wiggle into the armor. "I don't want to hear it."

She shrugged, finally tilting her head to give him her blatant attention. Any response she could have come up with would be wrong...mentioning the fact that the dead previous owner of that armor had been close to half his age would only exacerbate his embarrassment. Mentioning the fact that the dead previous owner had been a Sith trooper, and those were held to a strict physical regime, likewise. But there was one thing she could mention that might make life a little easier...

"You haven't released the resizing catches." She stated, not even giving into the thought line of how she knew how to fine tune Sith trooper armor fittings. "Here." It was a fantastic excuse to step within reach of him, to fill her nostrils with his increasingly familiar scent. She hit the protected buttons set deeply into the hip mechanism with her thumbs, feeling the warmth of his skin as she did so. He took a blessedly full breath when the armor relaxed around him...and he gave her a gritty half smile in response.

"Thanks." He muttered, "Certain very important parts of my male anatomy give you their most grateful appreciation."

She rested the palm of her hand against the small of his back, and he jumped like she'd burned him. He spun on her, and his stare was equal parts betrayed discomfort and reluctant interest. That was fine, she could work with reluctance, as long as there was underlying interest. "What?" She asked, and he sighed.

"Look." He breathed, taking a hold of her hand. "You're very, very..." He grimaced, dropping his eyes to her hand. "Nice. I mean, lovely. I mean..." He clenched his jaw, dropping his grip on her. "Ordinarily, I'd be honored. Truly. But I'm just not ready for this...yet."

Yet. She nodded, dropping the thought and picking up the chest piece for the larger armor set and unlocking the catches with grace and practiced ease. She meant only to help settle it correctly on him, but he rested a hand on her shoulder when she turned back to him. "Hey." His voice was just barely above a whisper, his fingers firm. "It's not you."

She gave him the look that comment deserved, and he snorted in amusement. "Yes, yes, I know." He replied, taking the chest piece from her hands. "It's a terrible, terrible phrase, and the vast majority of the time, it's a cop out." He dropped the armor over his head, and stood still as she helped him settle into it. "But I swear, Sarah, it's the truth. Losing my wife... Well, that's something that I'm not nearly over. But I appreciate that you would think that way about me, I really do. Makes me feel good."

She smiled in response, if that was all she accomplished that day, then it would be a better day than most. She left him to figure out the helmet on his own, stepping into the smaller suit and locking it down in a matter of moments. It wasn't the first time she'd worn one of these...or was it? Damned if she knew. Damned if she could remember. All she knew was how it worked, down to the finest of details.

"Dare I ask?" She probably shouldn't, but she did anyway, and he paused. Even though he was now completely and correctly encapsulated in the armor, she could sense the shift in his balance, the tilt of his head as he considered the question.

"I'm from Telos." He finally stated. "She was killed when Malak's fleet bombed it." A longer pause, heavy...but she sensed he wasn't done yet and held on to her silence. "My fleet arrived too late to stop it. At least I got the chance to be there with her...at the end. I got to say goodbye."

Telos. There was the usual flurry in her mind as she tried to remember something, a scattering of information. This was a difficult one, it wanted to run away. If she focused simply on what she wanted, needed, it sometimes worked. When?

Four years. It had been four years since Malak's Sith fleet had bombed Telos into a dead world, a whispery memory of something that had once been beautiful, bountiful. Time enough to mourn. And now, it was time for him to live again. But not today, today they needed to find Bastila, and a way off of Taris. She slammed the heels of her hands together, watching the suit's systems come online. It all looked good. A quick check proved that it hadn't been missed yet, it was still linked into the network. She pinged her location, knowing that silence would be viewed warily, and waved Carth to follow her. The faster they did this, the better.

She strode quickly out of the apartments, dropping into a firm march with him. She'd already scoped out the guarded elevator on her previous scouting trip, and moved straight towards it like she had been on that path a thousand times before. It was easy to break the suit's security codes, easy as breathing, somehow she knew override codes that it accepted without even a momentary pause.

"Wait. Who are you?" The guard, armored exactly as they were, demanded when they approached the elevator. That was fine, Sarah had the answer to that, as well... the suit's internal computer had given over its identity string when it had accepted her override.

"A429dash11." She snapped off, and it came out in the precise cadence of a fine Sith trooper.

"Going down?" There was a wealth of commiseration in the return question, and Sarah gave the slight hand motion that was the equivalent of a nod for someone fully armored up.

"It must be done." All traces of her Outer Rim accent were gone.

"Ah, well. Good luck, then. Be careful though... those gang bangers down there will shoot at anything, including us. We should just gas the whole fucking warren."

And they would, if they only had Bastila. Sarah understood that implicitly. "Thanks for the heads up." Gangs? Gangs that would shoot at Sith patrols? That made them crazy and stupid, indeed. And there was nothing worse than crazy and stupid with a blaster. It didn't matter, though. Bastila was down there, and she was going after her. She had to have Bastila back...

Why?

Interesting question, but again, no time to ponder it.

How could you have to someone back when you don't even remember them in the first place?

No. Not now. Not here. She couldn't be caught, and Carth was depending on her.

Carth.

That was enough to snap her out of the well of confusion that threatened to swallow her up. She wasn't about to drop the ball and just hand over Carth Onasi to the Sith. She owed him her life. He was a decent guy. He hadn't failed her, she wasn't about to fail him.

"No problem." The guard chuckled, and opened the elevator door for them.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a glory to watch, or in this case, listen to her work. It was like watching her become someone completely different than what he knew she was. Every response she gave was spot on, she wore the armor like a second skin. She had broken the computer locks on both suits without his even having realized she was attempting to...in just a matter of minutes. He could see his own suit's HUD readout, and it was all happy and cozy with the sudden change of user. He was down on Taris with an absolute master of her art, which was a miracle. Without this, they would have no chance in hell of getting out of this.

He remained stubbornly silent in the elevator, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that there were cameras, microphones covering it...watching her take the time to interface both suits and play with their settings, securing the transmission links between them.

"Is that wise?" He murmured, as if his whisper would make it less able for his lip mike to pick up his words. He knew, logically, that it monitored every single breath, picked up even the slightest of sounds he made...but it felt safer. The external elevator microphone would not pick up the whisper, however.

"SOP." She stated back in a normal tone. "You'll have to chin it over to wide broadcast if you would ever want to. Not that I think you would. Or should."

Oh, hell no. He wanted her to do all of the talking. One, she was so much better at it than he was. Two, he was all too well aware that the Imperials had good recordings of his voice, and any voice matching program around would identify him with ease. "And..scramble..."

Indeed, his screens blurred into a split second of snowy distortion before settling back into clarity. Little had changed...except he now had the same string of numbers she had just parroted off as her own visible in the upper left hand corner. "Switched users between the two. You've got the suit of the higher ranker in that patrol, but I don't want you doing the talking." And she probably had a dozen more reasons to not want him to talk than he could come up with on his own.

"You're good." It was an honest compliment, but her response was a slightly sarcastic snort, and of course she had to come back at him with an answer he didn't want to deal with...

"You do not even begin to know how good I am." But I'm willing to show you.

He growled, why, oh, why would he be stuck on Taris with a recon expert who had decided he was something to tease and chase? And why, oh, why was that such a temptation? Every other woman who'd given him eyes had been more than willing to walk, no...run, away when they'd discovered he came burdened with this kind of baggage.

It's been a long time.

A long time since he'd been touched, held close. A long time since he'd been truly anchored in the world of the living, walking forward instead of looking back. His personal life had become driven by ghosts and regrets, losses and revenge...

"We don't have time for that." In spite of the edge of panic she incited, the words came out almost jokingly. What in the hell was he doing, egging her on like this? She needed to know it simply was not an option...or was it?The idea stunned him back into silence, and he meekly trailed her off of the elevator, into the lower city of Taris.

Like the apartment pod above that he'd found to go to ground in, it was also silent, empty, filled with a furtive, measuring weight. "We need to get out of this armor." Obviously they were not going to find out what they needed to know, while masquerading as Sith troopers. Even he could figure that out.

"Yeah. We need to find a locker and a place to change."

He grimaced, safe in the fact that she couldn't see him. The less time either one of them spent without a full set of clothing on, the better.

Thankfully, they found an empty locker quickly, and she seemed distracted, or rather focused, enough to ignore the very short amount of time he spent stripped to his skivvies. In fact, she spent that time cautiously staring down the empty corridor, palms resting against the butts of her blasters. She had that odd, 'something smells bad' expression he was growing used to, evident when she was watchful, concentrating...but then, down here, something did indeed smell bad. It was obvious the moment he'd cracked the armor's seal and the air he breathed no longer passed through its filter system, that the air was stagnant and unpleasant down here. "It has a sensor suite." He noted, and got the barest flick of an eye in his direction. Yes, it did, and for that to work, she'd need to be wearing its helmet, but she'd been very quick to shed it, almost overly quick... he sensed an unease at odds with her ability to handle the suit itself. But she wouldn't be the first or the last who was claustrophobic locked down in heavy armor.

"The best the Sith can make." She replied, and he wasn't certain if that was an exaltation or a condemnation. "And I can't stand helmets. I like my brains intact, but."

He only nodded, shrugging back into his deck jacket. He hadn't worn a helmet in years, he was bridge crew. He captained Hammerheads. That was what he was good...no, great...at. The people who wore helmets on his ship were the ones outside of the bridge, trying to keep it secured... that was not his job. And it was obvious that the job she was great at would rarely have her kitted up in full armor, helmet with sensor suites, tagged and tracked.

"They'll track those suits."

"No. I disabled their tracking pods." She didn't fight her way out of hers as he had just had, but gracefully stepped from it and stowed it easily. He clenched his lip in reply, doing his damnedest to stare down the corridor as she had. She wasn't gorgeous, no. Morgana had been much more to his tastes, lushly built, with waving, curling auburn hair. She'd had a forthright beauty, difficult to hide, to obscure. But Sarah was a play of shadows, she could be downright lovely, as appealing as about any woman he'd ever seen, and then just flip it over and become perfectly run of the mill, unremarkable. He didn't understand how she could manage it, but right now, she was definitely moving back down towards unappealing. At that moment, he wasn't quite sure what he'd seen in her...

That's not natural.

No, it wasn't. He stared at her, trying to understand what he was experiencing. She was lovely. He knew that. He'd seen it, and it was the most obvious when she was asleep...or when she was deliberately trying to attract him. When she was distracted or ill at ease, it faded away...as she seemed to.

"You were told there was another cantina down here?"

"Yeah, a pazaak salon with fresh meat." Her expression animated with a nearly feral intensity, and she was beautiful again. He almost wished she wasn't, but at the same time, it was wonderful to behold.

"Then it's time to go get this job done."

.*.*.*.

You are cheating. Sarah wasn't sure how. Wasn't sure how he was, and she wasn't sure how she was so certain, but she never ignored that voice that muttered and mumbled deep in her consciousness.

"Close. Another hand?" The man grinned at her, and she measured him silently...feeling Carth's dismay rising beyond him, although she refused to look in that one's direction. She still had control of this, it was all still good.

"No, I think...not." She shook her head, gathering up her deck again, focusing on the bright geometric pattern on their backs. No, she was certain, he was the problem, she knew how to play...

"Come on, Squint. Draw or stand, make up your damn mind already..."

"Hold your throttles, woman." A male voice, edged with indulgent humor. She liked him, no, she loved him. She once leaned on him, he had been a pillar of stability, a touchstone of sanity. They had been friends, partners, lovers...

More formless memories, wispy and completely without context. Also, completely useless. Now all she had was what must be a nickname, and a ghostly voice from the depths of her submerged memories.

"No?" The man across the table from her chuckled, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. "Getting a little too warm for you, sweetheart?"

I've been around this block more than once. Rise to that bait, and there will be a fight. And no more information, no chance at more credits to keep them going. Time to shut this down, Sarah.

"Yeah. That's it exactly." She was too old and wise to play this one's games...all of them. "Sweetheart."

"Awh." His eyes flicked up, and she knew who was standing behind her now. Carth had moved around, and pointedly rested a hand on her shoulder, looming protectively over her. "Right."

Well, it was good to know that apparently Carth was good at protective looming...because he'd certainly raised caution in the man in front of her. Caution enough for him to stand up and leave the table in a hurry, glancing back often to make certain that neither Sarah nor Carth had moved.

"What was that all about?" Carth asked, his hand still resting firmly on her shoulder. "You're usually better than that."

"Eh. He was cheating, and his attentions were in the wrong place." No, that one wasn't open to giving her information, his attentions had been for his own benefit...her credits, and the occasional furtive glance to her face, her chest. Not like she had much there to offer...

"Cheating?"

"Yeah. Not going to call him on it...don't want a fight."

"Good call. We don't need the Sith down here to arrest us all." He gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting go of her. "Can you still get this done?"

"Probably. I'll bet he has a reputation down here already." He had been very quick to intercept her the moment they had walked through the cantina door...he'd smelled of desperation. She was willing to guess he had already burnt all of his other targets, which would make her a member of the group now.

She gazed around the cantina thoughtfully. Yes, this was much more what she was used to, much more normal than the one upstairs. A mix of races, heavily skewed away from human, Ithorians, Rodians, Twi'lek, all stuck below the upper city, waiting for the Sith blockade to be broken.

"Didn't take you long to shut him down."

Another man, human...older than the first to approach her, and she eyed him, feeling Carth fade back to give her room to work. The stranger sat in the recently vacated seat across from her, bluntly ignoring Carth as he did so. "Two hands to realize he was cheating. Means you're not bad... do you have the credits for a hand?"

"I do."

"Interested?"

Sarah sighed, smiling. "Of course."

He was a deliberate player, cautious but good. Not very talkative, but at least he wasn't cheating. The credits were welcome, but weren't really what she was here for. "So..." She began, and he flicked a glance at her over his cards. "How long do you think we're going to be locked down here?"

Answer me. Tell me the truth...

"Ah." He set down the next card, and she nodded slowly. Good play, ordinarily it would have been enough. Not today, though. She locked eyes with him, willing him to finally speak. "When they get a hold of the Republic soldier they're looking for. The woman."

Bastila? She could feel Carth shift uncomfortably behind her, but the man's gaze didn't flicker from her eyes. She still had him...

"Woman?"

He snorted with laughter, the spell over, his attention back on his cards. "Yeah. She came out of one of those Republic escape pods, and was picked up by one of the street gangs down here. Too dumb to realize what they're doing with her..."

She gave a quizzical tilt to her chin, and he only nodded. "The Sith are going to tear us apart looking for her, but they decide to offer her up as a prize for a swoop race."

Sarah didn't bother to alter the first expression that wanted to jump up... Bastila, a Jedi...held as a prize by a street gang? It was hilarious, it couldn't be, but it was. She knew it. Somehow.

"So which gang do we owe this to?"

Ah, that one he didn't want to answer, and she let it fall, just like she let the winning card fall. He sat up, his eyes narrowed for a moment before he gave a reluctant smile. "Good game." He admitted, paying up with a lopsided smile. "But that's it for me."

Sarah was not surprised, but she'd gotten what she wanted out of him. He was free to go, and go he did. "You can sit." She murmured to Carth, pushing the chair out for him with her foot. "I'm done playing for now."

He sat, trailing fingers across her shoulders as he did so. She wasn't even certain he realized he'd done it, it just seemed natural, unthinking.

"I find it hard to think that Bastila would have been taken by a street gang, of all things." He stated softly, his voice pitched to not carry far. "I mean, she's a Jedi..."

"She may have been injured. Even Jedi can be knocked unconscious."

"True."


	10. Chapter 10

Carth didn't know whether to be thrilled, or completely despondent. If Bastila was held by a street gang, then the Sith didn't have her, she wasn't on a shuttle leaving Taris headed for Malak's flagship. And that was a good thing. But then, how were the two of them supposed to handle an entire gang on their own? "Prize for a swoop race." He muttered, shaking his head at the very idea. A Jedi. That particular Jedi...lowered to such a position. He had trouble getting his mind around it. "She's going to be impossible to deal with after we get her back." He warned with a chuckle he wished hadn't risen to his lips, but had. Bastila was a young Jedi, impetuous, proud. He hadn't exactly been filled with confidence when he'd realized just how young she was, but she had been fronting their naval maneuvers for months now. But he couldn't shake the impression that she needed a keeper. A master, someone to keep an eye on her, to keep her safe. That most certainly wasn't him...and there had been no one with her who qualified when she'd come on board the Spire. The only person she'd brought with her had been... Sarah. And as much as he tried to figure that one out, he couldn't. None of it made any sense at all. Bastila shouldn't have been out here at all. Certainly not on board his ship, the Endar Spire. And accompanied only by a single, fuzzily amnesiac recon specialist who hadn't even been aware that she was accompanying a Jedi. None of it worked for him. Had they just been bait to get the Leviathan to raise to? Was the Republic navy inbound to engage the Imperial flagship here, over Taris?

"Maybe we should just wait for backup." He breathed, and Sarah's stare snapped back to him. "I mean, the only thing that makes sense is that we were used as bait to bring the Leviathan up..."

"Even if that's so." She began dubiously, "I doubt if Bastila being captured by a street gang was part of the plan. Are you willing to sit by and let her stay like that? Let what will happen...happen?"

No. He was not willing to let a very young woman stay in that predicament. She most certainly had him there. He could only hope that it hadn't happened yet, that they still had time... It staggered his mind to have to consider that a Jedi could be raped, but if she could be held against her will, it just had to be reasonable to assume that other things could happen against her will as well.

"Exactly. I'm not sure what the Admiralty was planning here, but I'm willing to bet those plans have crapped out. And by now, if backup was coming, it should have arrived."

She had him there. "I don't suppose you're as fine at swoop driving as you are at pazaak?"

"You're the pilot."

"I pilot cruisers." He growled, "Military vessels. I don't drive toys." Bikes were the domain of reckless youngsters looking for speed and danger. He'd been that...once, but had worked that out of his system a long time ago. When he'd been that, he'd been too poor to own a swoop bike. And when he'd had the money, he'd had the wife, the child, the home, and more important things to worry about than breaking his own neck. "You can't compare a Hammerhead to a swoop bike!"

She gave him one of those smiles, the ones where she was beautiful, and he glared back at her, well aware he was being played. "That won't work, either." He growled, and the smile became a conspiratorial smirk. "And I'll remind you, we don't have a swoop bike."

"I could probably win one from a table." She frowned, and the beauty fled from her features. "But we're running out of time here. Malak won't wait forever..."

"Hey." He reached across the table, resting his hand on her shoulder. She had it right, of course. They were running out of time. Darth Malak wouldn't wait, and Carth had first hand experience of what happened when that one reacted.

"Even if we can't find Bastila, we have to go..."

Oh, damn. She suddenly had that parsecs away look he was beginning to become acquainted with, and didn't like. "Sarah!" He hissed, and she snapped back to him. "I need you here with me."

"Of course." She responded, peevish, but focused again. "I'm sorry, you deserve better."

"You've done a fantastic job so far." While buttressing failing spirits came with the captain's job he'd had for years, to the point where it had become second nature to him, he wasn't just feeding her what he felt she needed to hear. When she was on her game, she was the best he'd ever seen. It certainly had not been fair to have assigned her to this as her first shake down after being released from a hospital. He just had to hold her together, just long enough to get her out of here.

"Go see if you can find out anything more about this swoop race." He doubted if that was the route they'd go...he wasn't a swoop rider, and he doubted if she was one either. Let her go do that, while he tried to figure things out. They needed another place to stay, he wasn't willing to run and rerun the Sith gauntlet every time. He'd love to find her an actual doctor, although he was not overly optimistic about that one. No, the best thing would be to get all three of them out of this, completely. Then he would be free to raise hell over this, but right now, that was counterproductive.

"Sure." She gave him a ghost of a smile, squared her shoulders, and headed resolutely towards the gaming tables. Her expression was steel, hard edged... just one more shark in a pool. She seemed suddenly older, taller, less attractive, and he sighed, staring into his drink. Let her do this, alone. Everybody in the room understood by now that he'd throw down if she got into trouble, he didn't have to hang over her shoulder. He'd probably just hinder her efforts, she shouldn't look like she needed a protector...not in this crowd. That would just be a weakness, the last thing she needed. It was bad enough that he was edging out of his element here, himself. He'd done dingy. He'd done seedy. Low brow, definitely. But this was deeper than he'd go voluntarily. He had few illusions about what he came off as...he was a large man. Heavier than he'd like to admit. He had been in combat, ground combat, and was more than able and willing to go there. But he wasn't a criminal, in any real form or fashion. He'd always tried to walk a straight and narrow path, to do the right thing. While some of those around him now were just trapped and desperate sorts, stuck here, too many were predators willing to abuse those now locked in with them. He just wasn't certain how to distinguish one from the other.

"Yeah. The swoop races. There's betting, I assume." Her voice carried perfectly, timed to a perfect flash of credits in her hand. "An organizer? A schedule of upcoming races?"

In spite of himself, he let a grudging grin cross his face, aware that he appeared to be quite the indulgent and impressed partner. But was that off? No, it wasn't. And it worked much better than the wary distance that the truth would bring. He didn't want to look like someone who barely knew her. That would raise suspicions that they could ill afford to face right now. This had to work, it had to look right, feel right, sound right. As difficult as it was, he had to let himself go there. And then he'd just have to face the fallout afterward.

"Lots of interest coming up on the season opener, but I don't think it's going to be your sort of thing." One of the men, a burly, dark twi'lek wearing orange and red chuckled, and she tilted her head at him questioningly. "Big prize. Fascinating prize...but there won't much money in the betting, only in the winning. Only a fool would bet against the Black Vulkar pilot, so where's the money in that?"

"Fascinating prize?"

He laughed, his gaze coasting to Carth. "Well, maybe not fascinating to you, little girl. Maybe to your...?"

"That's my husband." And she said it like she'd said it a thousand times before, embroidered with the just the right amount of ownership, concern, and jealousy.

"Yeah. He might find the prize interesting. Unless you go both ways? Like women? I hear she's pretty, and young..." His glance at Sarah proved that he found her to be neither, and Carth came out of his chair at it, not having to act the part. That gained him the twi'lek's attention, and he glared back, until the man chuckled. "Nah, he still seems to like you just fine. Not that it matters, she's the prize, not the bet. The betting will be weak, sorry to have to tell you that." He looked anything but sorry, and Carth moved up beside Sarah, tangling his fingers in the tail of her hair.

"Let's go." He muttered, and she nodded slowly, letting him guide her away. He kept a cautious eye on the twi'lek, but the man seemed more than content to lean and smirk right where he was, his hands nowhere near his weapons. Carth was willing to leave him right there...

"Did you get what you needed?" He asked, ushering her into the hallway...eerily almost the same as the one that had accessed their last haven. This place was confusing as hell, each corridor the same as the last. It added to the surreal feeling, his unease with everything around him.

"Yeah." She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "It does seem that they have Bastila, and have every intention of offering her up as a prize for the season opener. As unbelievable as that is on so many levels, it's what we have to go on."

"Can we just...take her?" On the surface, it sounded like the best idea. Somehow, it didn't feel that way, and the glance she gave him proved that.

"Maybe at the race. Maybe. If we had a squad with us, it'd be more doable...but they're managing to hold a Jedi, and keep everybody else away from her as well. Other gangs. The Sith..."

"Even if I was a swoop rider...which I am not...even if you could win a bike at a pazaak table...which I truly believe you're capable of, by the way, do we risk trying to win Bastila? I mean..."

"The game will be rigged, but she'll be out in the open. We'll have eyes on target. We're still not even certain that it is Bastila. All they're certain of is that they've got a Republic crew member from the crash. You had female crew."

"Of course I had female crew." The Spire had been fully crewed, sitting at just over three hundred souls on board. Almost half of those had been female... "And even if this isn't Bastila..."

"Still one of your crew." She stated easily enough, and he nodded. While Bastila had to come first, he couldn't ignore his other responsibilities. His ship. His crew. He had failed already...

"Stop that." She elbowed him sharply and he stared down at her. She sighed, reaching up and resting her palm against the nape of his neck, tilting her head. "One Hammerhead against the Leviathan and her armada, those were crazy stupid odds, Carth...even for you."

"Crazy stupid odds seems to describe all of this." He sighed, nodding slowly. She was right, of course. He'd had no chance whatsoever to bring the Spire out of this intact. "I don't suppose you're a champion swoop racer as well as a master of everything else this has thrown at you?"

She considered the question, then gave him a rare and lovely grin. "Damned if I can remember."


	11. Chapter 11

Damned if I can remember. It seemed to be her answer to everything. She'd spent so long following her instincts, throwing caution to the wind, that she didn't recall when she'd ever done something without that. Swoop race? Nothing about that seemed beyond her grasp, it felt exactly like the first time she'd sat with a side deck in her hands and let her fingers do the work for her. But how long could she just keep reacting, instead of thinking? Why didn't things fall back together again? Was it always going to be like this, things just out of her grasp, a fingertip away from her?

I need a vacation. Time to put her pieces back in their correct places, time to contemplate, to turn over the stones in her soul, in her memories, and see what slimy things lived beneath them. But it seemed like that was a luxury forever denied to her.

Why am I here? Because here was where she was supposed to be at that moment. That seemed right and true. It was fixed in place, an anchor point for her scattered existence.

Alone. That was an immense ache, one that grated where the doubts didn't. She wasn't used to this. It wasn't how she was supposed to be. She wasn't the person who fed off of false friendships, but she wanted...needed... someone who was true. Just as...

No. Not allowed to see that. It had been torn away from her, or had she been the one to tear it out of herself? Was she simply protecting herself from the memory? Wrapping up pain in a capsule of denial? Distance? I want...

As if he'd heard it, as if she'd stated it aloud, Carth's level brown eyes landed on her face. You. But he was definitely wrapping up pain, he'd been more than straightforward about that. Was she such a piece of work that she'd chase him? Ignore his pain, push her own agenda? Be that selfish?

You've done it before.

And learned nothing for it? What was the point of making mistakes if she hadn't learned from them? Even if she didn't quite remember...

He sighed, gazing down at her for a long moment, before cautiously lifting a hand towards her. She froze, staring into his eyes, while he combed his fingers into the hair above her ear. His expression was torn, the war in his heart plain upon his face. Tell him no. Step back.

I can't. I won't. I want him.

You destroy everything you want.

I can't go through this alone. They can't expect me to.

Who are they?

His lips were warm against hers, as he used the hand on her temple to steady her. He wrapped the other arm around her shoulder, and it was as if a dam broke within him. Desperation, pent up desire erupting, as if he'd finally given himself permission to move on them. His kisses were deep, once convinced, he was obviously more than serious, hand moving from her hair when she twined her arms around his neck and arched into him. His freed hand rode easily on the swell of her ass, pulling her closely into him. It was fantastic, wonderful...this was what she had been missing. She wanted it all... just not in a hallway outside of a cantina, being smirked at by the bouncer.

"Hey." She mumbled against Carth's lips, and he opened stunned eyes in answer. "We should get a room."

"A room? Right. A room." He stepped back, adjusting his trousers and sending the bouncer an attempt at a glare. The bouncer's widening grin made that it all too clear that it failed miserably.

"We got a room for ya." The bouncer laughed, and for one horrible moment, Sarah was afraid that was enough to kill Carth's impetus. Surely he wouldn't rethink it now that he'd come up for air? Not now, with the taste of him on her lips, the smell of him deep in her nostrils? I am going to kill your ass for that... Carth's sheepish glare had not been enough to faze the bouncer, but hers was enough to cast doubt across the smirk.

"Seriously. We have rooms, and unless you've got somewhere else, they're as good as anything else around here."

She flicked a glance at Carth, before shrugging. They didn't have many options, returning to their original apartment would mean running the Sith gauntlet, and that was risky. Then they'd just have to turn around and run it again. No, it was smarter to just stay put, down here. And if they did that, then they'd need a place to stay. "Right." Carth gave her a lopsided grin, returning to the cantina. She followed in his wake, almost afraid to breathe. It had just been a split moment of weakness, now that he'd time to step back, rethink it...

He got the key for a room, turning it over in his fingers before heading resolutely towards the hallway and opening the door for her. He stepped in behind her, shedding his orange jacket immediately and casting it haphazardly onto the floor. Any doubts as to his intentions vanished, he barely got the door closed before he had a hold of her again. It was joy to be laid down on the bed, overshadowed by his bulk... she'd never liked them small. His weight, his smell...the feeling of his lips, his teeth, his hands. Fingers matching the challenge of getting her shirt opened, his face buried in the curve of her neck. "Are you sure about this?" He asked, his voice ragged against her ear.

"Absolutely." ...there is only passion.

He'd gotten her shirt completely open, and the compression bra underneath unclasped, sliding it away and resting his hands on her breasts. His expression was stilled, thoughtful, almost awed, and she remained silent, only arching slightly to push herself further into his grasp. If he wanted to slow things down, take it easy, she was just fine with that.

"You're beautiful." He breathed, running his thumbs across her hardening nipples, chuckling as they tightened fully, riding high and pink on her small breasts. "Sarah, it's been awhile. I just wanted to let you know that..."

"Fairly certain it's been awhile here as well, but it's not like it's anything you forget how to do." She wrapped her fingers in his shirt, giving it a tug to free it from his pants. He took the hint, shucking it and tossing it to keep company with his jacket in the corner.

"I want to see you." He said, and she almost chuckled...he'd seen her already. She knew it, he knew it, but that had been entirely different. She understood he'd kept that professional, distant, this was hardly the same. But again, if this was how he wanted it, she was more than willing to give it to him. It was better than shame, better than a quick and dirty roll in the sheets. She stood, letting her pants fall and stepping out of them.

"Well, Captain Onasi?" She demanded, planting a fist in the curve of her hip and shooting him a smoky, over the top seductive stare.

That got him to laugh outright, a full, wonderful sound and she smiled back in answer. A good man. A decent man.

You broke the last one of those you had...

Oh, no. She was not going to listen, not now, not here. This was not wrong. It was not bad. It just was. She needed it, and she sensed the same coming back from him.

"Very nice indeed." He granted, standing beside her. He paused slightly before he unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his pants, and let them drop as well. She knew pretty much what she was getting, and was not disappointed. He was in good shape, considering what he was, and he possessed a delightful ass. He wasn't half bad in the front, either, thick and throbbing when she wrapped her fingers around his width. Warm. Alive. And utterly fixated on her, her motions, the slide of her fingertips up his erection. She had always loved the moment when she became the center of the universe, where her every breath was noticed, when her proximity was entrancing, derailing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, exulting in the velvet of his skin, the increase of his breathing, his pulse. Even his smell, the insistent butt of his penis against her belly...trapped there. His expression had faded into blankness, his hands on her hips, rocking slightly to begin the thrusting urge hardwired into him. It was simple to stand on his foot, on her tip toes, one leg hiked up around his waist and to lower herself slightly...not to give him what he yearned for, entrance, but to wrap her labia around him. She dropped the leg, tippity toed on his feet, the length of her wetness wrapped along the top of him.

"Shhhhhhhh..." He groaned, his grip spasming on her hips, his eyes hidden behind the fall of his forelock. "Sarah!"

"I know. You want in."

"Of course I want in, you damned tease!" He moved his hands down, grasping her by the ass, and hiked her up...carrying her the meter to the bed and resting her back down on it. "And I know you're ready."

That went without saying, from the moment she'd realized this had the possibility of going somewhere, she'd been wet. Now that it had definitely gone somewhere, and was going even farther, she was more than wet. She arched, pleased under his gaze, cupping a breast in one hand, spreading her own thighs with the other. Yup...definitely, wet and swollen, open to his eyes. "Carth..."

He knelt between her thighs, his gaze hooded as he took in the sight. His fingers were gentle when he reached out and rested them against the ones she was using to hold herself open with. He took the hand, lifting it up, and it was Sarah's turn to be transfixed by his motions. He rested it, palm first, against his face, his eyes closed, taking a deep breath...a deep draft of her scent. "Mmmm." He chuckled, resting his hands on either side of her opening, her clit captured between his thumbs. "I like how you say my name."

"Carth." It ended with a moan when he massaged with his thumbs, pulling slightly towards himself, then back towards her, pressing the throbbing flesh gently against its bone foundation. "Who's the tease now?" She managed, and he gave her a smile in answer.

"Tease?" He asked, pressing the head of his cock against her, holding himself steady before he entered in a deep, decisive thrust. It was wonderful, the ragged rush of a nearly immediate orgasm, breathless and driving. All she wanted to do was wrap her knees around his hips, relax, and let him go. And that's exactly what she did.


	12. Chapter 12

Carth was not immune to the irony. Once again, he sat on the floor, his face in his hands, Sarah dead to the world in the bed he leaned against. He was wide awake, thrumming with energy...she had crashed into this blissful sleep not long after he'd finished. Too soon for this stupidity. Well, that was true. He didn't really know her. She still wasn't completely well. All good reasons why he should have exercised a little more self control than he had managed. Sadly, however, the doubts he'd been expecting were not rising as quickly or as firmly as he'd thought they would.

What did he expect, truly? Morgana had been dead for years. He'd mourned, and then mourned some more. He had to start living again sometime. "I miss you." He sighed into the dimness, and was rewarded by a slight response from the depths of the bed behind him. He held his breath, but no...Sarah still slept. But she had heard him, responded to his voice, even as deeply as she rested. Odd, but that was a pretty accurate description of her.

He stood, stretched and scratched, contemplating the room. It wasn't much, hardly the surroundings he preferred to... well, he'd always prided himself on his sturdily romantic streak. Flowers, dinner, turned out in a tidy uniform at the very least. "I'll have to make it up to you." He chuckled, shaking his head. At least she'd certainly seemed to enjoy herself...

"Who are you and why are you here?" Her voice was deep, grating and dark. The first time he'd heard her talk in her sleep had unnerved him, the fear that she actually sounded like that had clung to him until she had awoken. She turned pissy in her nightmares, of that he had few doubts.

"Shhhhh." He laid down next to her, wrapping an arm around her belly and resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"What?" Her voice was normal, a little slurred with sleep, curious.

"Nothing. You were having another nightmare. Want to talk about it?"

"I...don't really remember. I remember being angry. No, outraged. And Bastila was there, with some others. There were klaxons, weapons fire, we were on board a ship...it was under attack."

No surprise there. "So you served with Bastila. That might have been the engagement you were injured in. Anything else you can remember?" If she'd served above and beyond the call of duty, then that could explain why Bastila seemed so attached to her.

"No." She covered his hand with her own, "Sorry if I disturbed you...but you weren't in bed."

"Not in bed, no." He kissed her shoulder, and she made a small, pleased noise under her breath. "Someone gave me a lot to think about." Another noise, less pleased, and he kissed the shoulder again. "Nothing bad, Sarah. Anyway, I've never been one of those men who fall right asleep afterward..."

"Damn, because I'm one of those women who do." She turned in his arms, resting her face against his chest, slinging her arm over his waist, her fingertips stroking his back. "Thank you."

"Fool woman." He murmured, settling comfortably next to her. "There are certain things you're never supposed to thank someone for." And this definitely qualified. It had been so long, he should be the one doing the thanking... "Although I owe you a dinner, you need to hold me to that."

"Dinner, eh?"

"Yes. It's been a long time since I..." What, exactly? Dated? He'd never been the love them and leave them sort, and he was in unknown territories here. He'd fallen for Morgana hard and fast, they'd both been very young, and that had been that...the end to his urge to make relationships with women stage. "Ah, geesh, Sarah. You have to cut me some slack here, I'm doing my best."

"Oh, now that's a statement I believe." She said, agreeably. "Don't tear yourself up over this, Carth. It defeats the purpose of it altogether. But sure, when we rescue Bastila, manage to flee the Sith blockade, and arrive safely back on Coruscant, I will take you up on that offer of a fine dinner."

The unnerving thing was, Carth felt, was that she seemed to be perfectly, completely honest in that statement. There was not even the slightest hint of self deprecation or amusement in her syllables. She just...believed. In him. In herself. Somehow she was tapping into a wellspring of supreme confidence, and he'd certainly like a drink of it himself. That, or she was simply crazy. Or both.

"What's the matter?" She shifted, resting her head on his arm, her eyes very dark in the dimness when she looked up at him. He snorted, holding her closely, running his fingers deep into her loose hair. "I've missed this." He finally admitted aloud. It was the truth, and it was perhaps safer than stepping into the realms of exploring crazy...with the possible crazy. Sex was always good, no great, but this was truly what he lacked. The comfortable intimacy of lying in a dim room, in bed with an unclad partner, just talking. Sharing, not being alone.

"Yeah."

"Dare I ask?" She became still in his arms, and he sensed that she'd gotten that distant, searching look. He regretting asking immediately, but he couldn't bring the words back.

"I don't remember." She finally settled on, making herself more comfortable in his embrace. "If he hasn't been around the whole time I've been out of the hospital, then that tells me what I need to know. I asked in the hospital if anyone had come. If anyone had made inquiries. If there was anybody in my records...they told me no. No one."

Carth held his breath for a long, horrified moment. He couldn't imagine just being abandoned, discarded, left like that. Morgana had died in his arms, terrible, but he knew her fate. His son, never found, but Carth had searched until the Sith occupation of Telos had forced him away. He'd never given up the search. Every administration in the Republic who could have recovered Dustil had been informed that he was missing. That Carth was still looking, still waiting...still hoping. But to be in a hospital on Coruscant, how difficult could she have been to find? "I'm so sorry."

"Obviously not worth my time...if I run into him again, I'll kick his ass for it. Otherwise, not. Luckily for him, I don't remember who he is."

And the steel in her voice almost made Carth feel sorry for the unnamed, unremembered male in question...almost. He wouldn't want this one after him, but if he had really left her, then he deserved what he got.

"His loss." She chuckled, wrapping her arms around him. "Your gain."

That should have been creepy. Oddly enough, it wasn't, and he just held her until she fell asleep again. Not long after, he slipped to sleep himself.

He woke to the furtive sounds of someone up, and trying to get things done without waking the other person in the room. "I'm awake." He called, and as expected, the sounds became normal. Had it really happened? Or was he just dreaming...

She came out of the refresher, naked as the day she was born, and whatever groggy doubts he may have had fled at the sight. And under the covers, he was also completely nude... No, it had happened. He wasn't entirely certain what he thought of that fact, but it was undeniable. "Good morning." She greeted, at ease with the weight of his eyes on her. "It's all yours."

Yes, yes it was...even if she was referring to the refresher, not the view. She was not a lushly built woman, rather thinner than his tastes preferred, but it was all put together well. Her hair was still loose, and he liked it that way, and if these were the only times he saw it, then he could still be happy. She had rather broad shoulders, a play of muscles, small breasts, narrow waist, and wider hips than he'd have originally guessed. She was built like a woman on the move, a dancer, a soldier, nothing extra on her at all. Of course, she was unwell, coming off of a time of even greater illness. And he was not in any position to judge, he was hardly a hard chiseled god of male perfection. "What are your thoughts?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from a full on view of nude female and gathering up his clothes from where they'd been tossed.

"The only way we can guarantee being allowed into the pits of the season opener, getting that close, is to have a bike. I don't have to win, but that's what it's going to take to not be locked into the betting parlor. They're going to be cautious about this...they'll want to keep it on the low down."

"We could wait until after..."

She treated him to a fine angle as she leaned over to collect her own clothes, her expression closed and thoughtful. "No. Everything in me says we have to be there. Then. That it's our only chance to get Bastila back, and..." Closed and thoughtful became that completely distant, empty fix... "I have to have her back."

I have to have her back. Carth dropped his head to hide his own expression as he pondered. I felt angry, no...outraged. Possession, outrage, and Bastila's bizarre refusal to leave this one behind, it was all so very strange.

"Stupid, I know." She continued in her usual voice. "For a woman I don't really remember. One of these days, it will all fall back into place, and I will understand again." She glared at the unoffending wall next to her before she sighed and gave him a smile. "Well, it could be worse, let's go get this done, Champ."

"My name is not Champ." He sighed, sliding from between the sheets and standing, well aware he was giving back the show she'd been so generous with. "My nickname is Fleet."

That earned him a wicked smile and a quick kiss. "Must be a joke, because you certainly weren't overly quick last night." In spite of himself, he had to laugh. Well, at least she was in a damn good mood, and she was a sunny sort when she was. "Go get cleaned up. We're running out of time."


	13. Chapter 13

Right. He didn't want to know why she thought that, but it was obvious that she was probably right. "What's your plan?" He asked, and she gained that empty, distant stare.

"Need a bike. No matter how we get one, we get one. It's the only way, Carth."

"Right." Her increasing focus was contagious, and he quickly dressed, strapping his holster belt on. It was an ingrained habit to check his weapons, shrug into his jacket, and be ready to go. The night before was something he'd consider when he had the luxury of time, when it was dark. When it was quiet. When he was alone. "Then we go get one." He was just going to close his mind to how... he was an honest person, but she was right. If they had to steal one, then they stole. If they had to kill...then they killed. This was war. Bastila was a military asset that they had to recover. "Start pushing, and I'll back you up." They couldn't keep resting on subtlety.

"Right. I push." She dressed, her back to him, and he frowned. She spared no movement, usually, but her palms rested on her thigh, her whole stance that of someone who was missing something, lost something and trying to remember where she had last seen it at.

"Whatever it was, you don't have it at the moment." He stated, and she jumped...caught. "And I brought everything you had with you in the pod..." Which hadn't been much at all, just clothes and a standard issue blaster, hardly what she should have had if what he understood about her was correct.

"I was asleep when the attack began. I...may have left..." Her voice faded off, and he strode up behind her, dropping his hand on her shoulder. If that was so, it didn't matter what it had been. The Spire was down, gone. Anything left on board, gone. "Something." She sighed, grazing fingertips over his skin. "Which means I didn't leave it on the Spire, I'd remember forgetting it."

That made more sense than it should have, and he shook his head. She was wearing off on him, or he was simply grasping just how she worked. "Shhhhh." He moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and burying his face in her hair. "How long have you been out of the hospital?"

"I can do the job." She growled, and he grimaced, the expression safely hidden from her.

"How long?" He repeated, and she sighed, resting her cheek against his arm.

"Three months." She finally admitted, and he nodded. It really was as bad as he was afraid of, but that couldn't be helped. She should be doing something easy on Coruscant, she should have been nowhere near the Endar Spire, nowhere near Bastila Shan. The very idea that this had been put on his ship annoyed the hell out of him, but it wasn't as if there was anything he could do about it then. But it was time to go do something, anything. He stepped back away from Sarah, and waved towards the door. She only nodded, squared her jaw, and headed out into the cantina to begin that push.

Failure. It was all an amazing, terrible failure, and it was all hers. Bastila focused on the ceiling above her, trying to push it all back. The Endar Spire had been carrying two very precious passengers, and now...what? It wasn't arrogance to view herself as one, that fact had been pushed into her for years now. Without her gift, the Republic was doomed to be crushed under the massive Imperial onslaught moving inexorably forward...pushed by a man who had once been one of their own. Once been close, once been trusted with their greatest secrets... Malak. And just for a few months, it had seemed like they had finally gotten a break. A glimmer of true hope; something to drag them up onto firm strategic ground... and Bastila had lost it all. It was over.

The glimmer wasn't dead, in fact, Bastila was certain that she was alive, and close-by. Had these imbeciles also managed to capture Revan? The lamed, harnessed Revan that Bastila had been responsible for? If so, that was just another crime, Bastila had played a massive part in crippling the woman, been instrumental in holding her, keeping her, using her. If she was being abused here, unable to tap into her abilities, then that was Bastila's fault. If the stress of being captured was enough to break the chains wrapped around her soul...to release the true, whole Revan, then that was Bastila's fault.

I'm just a padawan. Surely it was foolish to believe that she was capable of keeping a leash on one of the most powerful force users alive, even when that one was shattered and barely glued back together.

"Revan knows how the Empire is constructing these ships. Revan knows where the shipyards are. Revan knows the Empire's secrets. And we hold Revan..."

Bastila growled. She had not saved Revan for this. Surely the Council had to understand just what they were doing...to Revan. What they were doing to Bastila, now inextricably linked to Revan. Using Revan, relying on that link, was using Bastila. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen.

It had been reflexive, desperate, sealed and strengthened by the dying Dark Lord...

"Who are you and why are you here?" It wasn't truly even a voice, it was dark, anguished, echoing and ominous syllables breathed out from an inscrutable mask. This had once been an ally. A sister, a bulwark for the Republic. Bastila could feel the rest of the strike team quail, their resolve fading when the Dark Lord's fixated attention fell on them. Darth Revan exuded outrage, anger, and more than a little contempt, in spite of the numbers arrayed before her, and doubt crept into Bastila's heart. There were six Jedi behind her, and that didn't seem to be nearly enough. We can't take her...

The sound of a lightsaber igniting was second nature to all eight of the people left on the bridge, its sullen crimson glow echoed by the emergency lighting, trapped in the wafting smoke. Bastila ignited her own lightstaff, taking comfort in its sharp, yellow shine...hearing her strike team make the same answer behind her. Revan stepped into a guarded position, and Bastila gathered her resolve, her wits. She could do this. They'd come all this way to get Revan, and that was Revan right in front of her. It was time to get the measure of the woman the Council held so highly...

Bastila launched herself into her first attack, trying to get deeply into Revan's guard, to overbear her, come in from above...

The response was easy enough to be insulting, as the Dark Lord ducked gracefully out of the attack, waving Bastila away as if she was nothing, not even worthy of full attention as Revan powered into an attack centered not on Bastila, but two of the strike team behind her...while holding a fourth at bay by elevating him into the air and force choking him with a dismissive wave. He landed at Bastila's feet, a crumpled, empty body, dead.

This can't be happening. Please, please, something stop her!

Revan tore through the two she was focused on, every move spare, controlled, rationed, before she turned that empty faceplate back to Bastila. "This is all you brought?" Her voice was mocking, yet tinted with curiosity, and Bastila had to swallow down panic. This was not going the way that they had planned, not at all...

Revan stood on the apron of the front control bridge, her back to the viewport, and all Bastila could do was stare. It was a terrifying, majestic sight...the fleet action beyond, and that...right in front of her. It was time to die, as a Jedi...doing the right thing...

The explosion was massive, stopping Bastila's heart for several beats. Her ears popped, followed by a ringing, buzzing deafness. Flames rushed by her, and she instinctively covered her face with her arm. She couldn't breathe through the change in pressure, and her surroundings obscured from acrid, billowing smoke, and a dizzying display of warning lights. She stumbled backwards, trying desperately to see the oncoming scarlet of the Dark Lord's lightsaber. There was plenty of crimson lights, banks of them, all blinking, but none were large enough to be what she dreaded.

"Emergency atmospheric filters, engaged." A calm, mechanical voice noted over the speakers, and indeed, the smoke began to clear. "Forward bridge defect, sealing."

Forward bridge defect? Bastila trained her gaze on where Revan had been standing. If the explosion had come from Bastila's front, it would have been at Revan's back. There was a pool of shadowy robes there, where the Dark Lord had stood, and Bastila warily inched closer. It was a trap. It had to be...

Blood glistened against the anti-slip flooring, black in the emergency lighting, and Bastila touched the edge of the spreading wet. Revan was down, Revan was dying...and taking everything she knew with her. "No!" Bastila hissed, yanking the mask away, exposing the face of a rather ordinary looking woman beneath. Blood trickled from her nose, from her mouth, her eyes were closed, her breathing agonal. She was limp when Bastila gracelessly gathered her up into her arms, heavy in spite of her suddenly small size. "No!"

The woman's eyes opened, stunned, dilated, the same color as the ones that Bastila saw every time she looked in a mirror. "Malak. You bastard..." She breathed, and Bastila pushed the bloodied strands of very dark hair off of her forehead, locking eyes with her. Somehow, Bastila had to touch her, to hold her...stripping away the gloves and tossing them behind her, nearly crushing the woman's chilled fingers in her grip.

"You have to hold on." Why, why, why wasn't she a healer? Revan was dying in her arms, and nothing was going to stop her. "You have to stay with me. Look at me! Stay with me!"

Bastila sighed, shaking her head at the memory. She'd been willing to do anything, give up everything, to keep Revan alive. And the force had answered that plea, bonding Revan to her, and yes, bonding her to Revan. If Revan failed, stumbled, remembered...then Bastila was lost. She had few illusions that she was strong enough to keep herself whole if Revan returned to the dark side. She'd be dragged down with her, swallowed up, drowned.

I know you're here. She'd know if Revan was dead, the bond would be severed. She'd been warned that if that happened, it would be traumatic, painful, possibly even fatal to her. If anything, Bastila felt better, calmer, safer, and healthier. Revan was awake. Unafraid, here on Taris. And she'd be coming after Bastila, driven by the force bond she no longer had the training, tools or memories to comprehend.


	14. Chapter 14

By mid-morning, Sarah was beginning to lose hope. She had just three days to find a swoop bike and enter a race...one with a prize that the entire underground of Taris wanted. Anybody with half a dream was going to try, hoping for the offhand chance of a miracle. I can't lose her. I will tear Taris apart to get her back. Mine. A possession, a weakness. All mine.

"You're the woman looking for a bike."

Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin, her hand once again going for her thigh, not the holstered blaster hanging farther back. Carth was much more attentive, and able to find his blaster, than she had been... his grip was wrapped around the butt, his eyes focused on the interloper.

"I am." She stated, staring at the tall, spare, older woman standing just beyond her reach. "You got one for sale?"

No, that would be too easy, she sensed steel and doubt under this one's rough and ready exterior. And, now that she was awake, she noted gang colors...subtly displayed, but still..displayed. There was no reason for a gang member to help someone else get control of Bastila. She was too much of a prize...

"Come with me." The woman motioned, turning to walk away, and Sarah stared, feeling Carth bristle with caution behind her. Only hope we have left...

"Whatever it takes." She breathed, knowing that Carth could hear her. He nodded sturdily, waving her to follow the woman before he stepped into pace behind Sarah. They were led though the disorienting corridors, each identical, until the woman turned into a straight run. There were two men in the corridor, guarding the door that the woman was making a beeline for.

"This way." The woman ordered, ignoring the guards completely as she passed unchallenged between them. Sarah measured them both, but they seemed content to let her by as well. Trap? Doesn't matter. If it is, I'll tear them all apart. They can't keep me from Bastila, and they can't hold me here.

They were led into a large hangar bay, well lit, and populated by more gang members than Sarah was comfortable seeing. It would be a challenge to bring them all down, while keeping both herself and Carth alive and uninjured. No more time for accidents. No more time for recuperation.

"You should talk to Gadon." The woman stated, waving towards a solitary human male standing off by himself, beside a single swoop bike. "He's asked to see you."

Why, I wonder. Sarah deliberately avoided gawking at the bike beside the man as she strode across to him, her steps obliterated exactly under Carth's heavier tread. Another older soul, odd for a gang... and he watched her approach out of pale, cybernetic eyes. "You are Sarah. And Devid."

"Yup."

The man stared for a long, long moment, overtly measuring, contemplating, and Sarah merely raised a brow in response. He'd get there, eventually. "I am Gadon Thek, and I run the Hidden Beks."

"Uh huh." It meant little to nothing to Sarah, and she wasn't afraid to show that. This was quite a bit more than buying the bike resting so closely to her, but she wasn't about to jump. Let him lead the way...

"So, you want in on the Season Opener." He sighed, resting a hand on the bike, and she shrugged in answer. He didn't get off this easily, he'd brought her here, and it was his show. She wasn't going to feed him.

"Yes." That she'd already made perfectly obvious, and it would just be silly to hide it. He knew her name. He knew the name that she'd pasted on poor Carth. If he knew the small stuff like that, then he knew what she'd been throwing around.

He simply nodded as if she'd given him more, wrinkling his nose in thought. "You want the woman." His blank, white gaze coasted from her face, higher over her shoulder...to where Carth lurked, while Sarah quickly ran through her options. It was foolish to deny, but hard to admit. "So. Let me tell you what I think, and what I'm willing to do for you. A week ago, there was a battle over Taris, Sith versus Republic vessels. We know that because of the escape pods, and what was in them. Immediately after that, you two show up, with a likely enough story, probably the best you could have come up with. But you had next to nothing, and what you do have now is from a combination of selling off 'salvage' from a Republic escape pod and the earnings of a pazaak shark at work. Instead of doing the smart thing, and lying low, you throw yourselves into getting a pretty, drawing a whole hell of a lot of attention in a hurry. You're after the woman, because she was on your ship, and she belongs with you."

"Okay, that's what you think." Sarah forced the words out, "So what are you willing to do for us?"

"I don't want the woman. Seeing her returned to her comrades would be a fine thing to me, indeed. What I do want...need...is to have a rider sponsored by us win that race. But to do that means I need your help."

"Still listening."

He stared at her for a long moment before chuckling. "Guess I shouldn't expect different out of the pazaak shark of the pair. You hold your cards close to your chest. It's pretty simple. This is one of our bikes..." he gave it a slight push, and Sarah finally glanced down at it. It looked pretty much like every other swoop bike she'd ever seen, except for the open engine housing and the fairly obvious gap where there shouldn't be one.

"And it's missing..." She leaned hard against the wall of her memories, hoping that something that benign would be regurgitated out of it. "An accelerator."

"You know bikes."

"Yeah." Somehow.

"Good. Then you'll know what you're looking for when you see it."

"A random, runaway swoop accelerator?" Sarah drawled, and the man laughed outright.

"The not so random, stolen swoop accelerator that's supposed to be right there. You recover it, you..." Again, the measuring, contemplating look. "Ride it. Win your compatriot's freedom, which is what you want. And give us what we need, to bring Brejik down a few pegs. And he's the one who has your girl. Win win."

Win win. Recover Bastila, and destroy the person who had dared to take her away from Sarah. It worked.

"You know where it is?" She simply did not have time to turn Taris upside down looking for it.

"I do. And I know who you need to talk to...and where you can start looking for her."


	15. Chapter 15

"This is crazy." Carth stated, and Sarah only shrugged the statement off. "You know what's under Taris, right?"

"The Undercity." She sounded displeased, but hardly wary, and he stared at her. Taris's Undercity was famous, or infamous, depending on who one spoke to. It was a dumping ground, a jail, and a quarantine zone, all in one handy, hidden package hidden below the sight-line of the great city above it. The very idea of it grated on Carth's nerves and fanned his outrage. It was one thing to prosecute criminals, to punish wrongdoers...but there was no circumstance in which he could consider it fine to have generations of families tossed away like garbage, for some nebulous wrongdoing of an ancestor long dead and gone. And the magnitude of injustice just rose with the understanding of what bred and grew down there...the direction they were headed towards.

"So, if I'm bitten, I can count on you to do the deed, right?" It might be less than impressive and manly, especially in front of a new lover, but the very idea of it had always haunted him. He flew, usually above crap like this...

"Deed?" She seemed more interested in a hangnail than their continuing drop lower.

"Rakghouls." Surely she had not forgotten those. He held his hand out in her direction, tapping his fingertips to his thumb to simulate a biting motion. She gazed at it, amused, and he glared at her. "Seriously, Sarah... not funny. Those things give me nightmares."

"Deed, eh? Sure, Carth. I'll do the deed...right here. Take your jacket off."

"Not that deed, silly." He muttered, rolling his eyes when she jabbed him with a finger. "I like my jacket. And it's some protection against..." He made the motion again, and she actually chuckled in response.

"Jacket. Off." She reached into her pocket and removed a small plastic case. "Now. Deed."

"What is that?" He asked, warily shrugging out of his jacket and studying her as she pulled a syringe out, eyeballing it, and then Carth. "Eighty five kilos? Or so?"

"Close enough." It was pretty close, he was a little heavier than that, but unwilling to admit it. Or he had been, he'd lost some weight already during this. "What is that?"

"Rakghoul vaccine, the good shit. Fast acting Imperial version, from the armor carrybins." She held it out, much like he had just gestured, but with the syringe pinched between her fingertips. The matter of fact labeling promised exactly what she claimed. "So yes, I am more than willing to do the deed, Carth."

"How many do we have?" He asked, rolling his sleeve up and standing stoically as she injected it.

"One for you. One for me, since I can't remember if I've had it...even though I'm sure I've seen it before. Two extra...just in case." She rolled her own sleeve up and presented her bared arm to him, barely blinking when he pushed the plunger. "There." She rubbed the injection point briskly, and rolled her sleeve back down while he rescued his jacket from the floor of the elevator. "Now, let's go find ourselves a teenaged twi'lek and a wookiee roaming loose in the Undercity. How hard could it be?" Thankfully, there was a tinge of sarcasm under her syllables already, and he felt no need to add to it.

"Glad to see you're still sunny."

"Sunny, eh? She asked. "I don't believe many people have ever called me that one before." She stepped up close, kissed him on his chin, and he smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and she...still held in his arm, quick drew her blaster and pointed it unerringly out...her gaze still on his face. He mirrored the action a moment later, sending a glance towards the opening. Three filthy, thin men flinched away, back towards the darkness.

"We won't be having any of that." Sarah stated boldly, coldly, stepping out of Carth's grasp and out into the dimness. "Take your shit elsewhere."

Even though he'd seen it before, it still startled Carth. She had just been calm, sunny...even, and now she was death and doom, a promise of destruction engraved on her austere features. He'd seen something that came close before, and it fit with the growing picture in his mind... resolve to do what had to be done, to hell with the consequences. That was what had put her with Bastila, and had probably put her in the strike force to kill Darth Revan.

"I said, go!" She snarled when two of them hesitated, not quite willing to give up on the idea of fresh meat...figuratively or literally, Carth wasn't certain which. But her bravado was enough to break the mens' wills, and they turned and ran...disappearing into their gloomy surroundings. "What a hellhole." She muttered, blinking as she stared into the dark. Carth had to agree, and the idea that they were down here to find a teenager didn't sit well with him. It didn't sit well with him that there were people down here at all. He could just barely sense the towering buildings he stood amongst, more like insurmountable walls, cliffs here, than anything built for utility. A prison wasteland made out of the footprints of soaring skyscrapers.

"Agreed." He was used to flying, free...alone as far as he could see.

This was horrible, even if he forgot the rakghoul problem. He hadn't been joking when he'd said that those gave him nightmares. And now that he'd actually seen where they came from, it was even worse than his imagination had shown him.

"I'll keep you safe, Carth."

He would have preferred it if she'd bothered to put even this slightest hint of a joke there, but her tone was deadly serious. "Not going to even try to protect my man feelings?" He snorted, falling into step behind her.

She paused, glancing back over her shoulder at him. "Only boys need that, and you don't qualify. I picked a man, I picked you. But it's only wisdom to understand that you are out of your element here. I am not. You can keep me safe after we find you a cockpit to do it from."

"Fair enough."


	16. Chapter 16

It was all so very, very oppressive. The weight of illness, of desperation, of injustice...it all hung heavy in the air around Sarah. It begged for violence, it begged to be crushed, annihilated, destroyed. Or embraced fully...she wasn't certain which. Carth's presence was a touchstone of sanity, he stood behind her, unbowed.

Find this Mission Vao. Get Carth out of here, intact. Get herself out of here before...something happened. What that could be, she didn't know. She felt hunted, watched, just under the notice of something she was certain she didn't want to be found by. Just being silly.

No, she wasn't just being silly. There was a Sith fleet in orbit, one that had dragged the Endar Spire down, out of... "Carth, what hit us?"

"Eh?" He was digging through the pockets of his hangar jacket, finally found the low light glasses he was looking for, and slid them on. "Hit us?"

She pointed unerringly upwards, and he glanced in that direction before nodding slightly. "Imperial flag... Leviathan. Karath's ship." He spat in disgust, "Malak's main fleet."

"That's a good look for you." She teased gently, trying to edge him away from the anger she heard in his voice. She understood that he was the best and that losing the Spire, being here like this, had to rub him the wrong way But she was also aware of two other things...no matter how good, how great Endar Spire's captain had been, she had been doomed the moment the Imperial flag had stagnated her. And that they'd been sold out for that to have happened. There was nothing he could have done...

"I hate that man."

She tilted her head, half closing her eyes to listen to him completely. Not just his words, but everything. The way his fists clenched, his teeth locked together, his breathing hissed. "He carried out Malak's order to bomb Telos." She murmured, putting the pieces together. "And...you would have served with him." With Carth's decorated past, there was no way he hadn't seen time beside Karath. "You were in the war, right?"

"Of course. Weren't we all?"

She considered the question carefully. It fell squarely into the mists, it squeezed out of her grasp like mercury, shied away and ran into a dark corner far away from her. "I...am not certain."

"Shit. Sorry, I keep forgetting." Concern startled him out of his funk with much more ease than her pathetic attempt to compliment him had. "For all we know, you were a great war hero, singlehandedly responsible for turning the Mandalorians back."

"I'm certain someone would have bothered to tell me that." She chuckled, moving cautiously into the dim fog beyond the elevator.

He laughed. "Probably. And it's not like you're Revan."

"Hardly, but I'm a lot more mobile and alive than Revan manages right now." Even she knew that the Dark Lord of the Sith was no more. Bastila had destroyed that one, gone and done. "You ever meet her?"

He sighed, clipping a low light sight onto his blaster and peering through its bright screen pop up. "No. I met Malak, but never Revan." His eyes were downcast, dark, his brows lowered. "And I liked Malak. He was a good man... I have to assume that Revan was the same, before they fell together. But they both had an excuse that Karath will never, ever have... they fell to the dark side. I don't understand it, but it happened. Karath didn't, he chose to keep following them after they fell to madness. I can't forgive that. He was my mentor. I respected him. And his ship destroyed my home...my family. Everything I had. That's why I'm here, Sarah, to answer back to him. And..." He stared up at the invisible sky... "He's just right there, and he knows he's punched me down again. Bastard. Fucking bastard!"

"Hmmm." Sarah replied, checking her own blaster and eying the darkness. She didn't have all the fancy shit that he did, but she'd just have to make do until she could convince something recently dead to give her better. A jacket would be nice as well, preferably not blood soaked, but she wasn't particularly picky.

"That's the best you can do?"

"Pretty much so, yeah. You're pissed. I get it. You're not pissed at me, so I can't do anything. You have every reason to be, so I can't argue that. So, hmmm." She would get nowhere by feeding his rage, not here, not now. It would probably make for some fantastic fun, but that was a luxury she couldn't indulge at the moment. "So, unless you want some pissed off sex, right here, right now...there's not a lot I can do."

He stared at her, utterly derailed, one brow quivering towards his hairline. "You... are incorrigible."

"Yes, I am." She said agreeably, leading the way into the gloom.

They didn't walk far before Sarah saw dim lights and changed course slightly to move towards them. They illuminated a small group of huddled huts, furtive forms moving amongst them, and Carth made a suspicious noise under his breath. "Rakghoul?"

She focused on the closest, watched it move for a long moment. "No." She finally judged. The form was cautious, huddled, but walked upright. It was also small...somehow she just knew that it wasn't what Carth feared. "Let's go."

The smell was pervasive, and grew even more so the closer they got to the settlement, and Carth had settled into a nonstop growl of outrage before they were close enough to be noticed.

Sarah had been expecting wariness, concern, but she had not been expecting the press of fascinated people who responded to the sentry's call when the pair of them became visible. "Upsiders." The group whispered, and thin children pushed up uncomfortably close, pulling on her clothes with grubby fingers.

"Hey, hey, hey, munchkins." Carth chuckled behind her, "A little room here, okay?"

She sent a sudden, dark glare at one of the children, snatching her up by a skinny arm. "Don't." She breathed, tossing the child away, and Carth stared at her in thinly disguised horror. "Next one of you little buggers try to steal from me, or him, and I open up."

They scattered in a sudden flurry, squealing as they went. Carth's eyes still rested on her, and she did her best to school her features back into a fairly pleasant mask, knowing she failed miserably. He shrugged, obviously at a loss for words, and patted his own pockets thoughtfully. She knew his pockets were held closed by magnetic tension bars, to keep small items from falling out, especially in low or no grav. He probably would have noticed them opening...or more likely at his pay grade, they were locked to his touch. Her clothes, such as they were, were an open invitation to pickpockets.

"I apologize for that." A young woman broke from the crowd, warily approaching. "They're hungry...it makes them stupid and bold. You two aren't the usual. Salvagers. Sith. Or mercenaries. What are you looking for? If it's the escape pods, you're a week too late."

"No." Sarah made a great show of straightening her clothes, patting them back down. "We're looking for Mission." It was a calculated point to not add a last name, or a description. To make it sound like she knew her well, and was expecting them to know her just as well. "Seen her recently?"


	17. Chapter 17

"No way." Carth breathed, staring out into the dimness surrounding the small encampment. "Did she say...sewers?" The Undercity was bad enough without going under it. There was no doubt that any accessible routes would be just filled with rakghoul, and he shuddered at the thought. "Horror vids go this way, Sarah."

"So they do." She chuckled, giving him a supportive slap on his back. "Bastila. End of the Republic. Complete domination of the Sith Empire. Duty. All that shit." Her fingers slid beneath his jacket, and she rested the flat of her palm against his lower back. Her touch was warm, soothing, and he felt himself relaxing in spite of his better judgment. "Just think of it this way, Carth..." she whispered, leaning into him, her other hand resting opposite the other, against his belly. "When we're done here, we can play out how porn videos start."

"We've already done that." He muttered, unable to fight the chuckle that rose to his lips. Only in his wildest, and yes, porn fueled dreams had he ever seen what had happened...happen. He wasn't that kind of guy, but she had come on like a charging uxibeast, and admittedly, he hadn't put up that much of a fight for his virtue. "And you have a one tracked mind."

"It distracts me from the idea of going into the Tarisian sewers in a wild scheme to rescue a woman I don't actually remember that well. You're the one who tells me she's so important, and all that...so..." She hooked her fingers in his pants and yanked. She was not physically impressive, but she was damned strong...pulling him off of his feet for a moment. "Buck up there, buddy. Rescue the damsel time."

He sighed, re-balancing himself. She had the most amazing ability to make him feel...well, not safe, because she certainly hadn't tried to downplay the danger, but watched out for. She defused his doubts as if they were bombs, and she was a demolitions expert.

"Lead the way." He waved towards the darkness. She stared into it, craning her head slightly, before nodding and stepping boldly out of the wan pool of light. "Am I the only one who thinks it's insanity to be looking for a teenaged girl in the sewers of Taris?"

"Nope."

"Good. Good. I was afraid I was showing my age. You know, the whole...when I was a kid, we didn't play in the rakghoul infested sewers under Taris's skyscrapers...line. And then I can up the ante by the righteous addition of: 'And I never let my kid do it, either!' line."

"Such an old fart." She replied indulgently, almost...lovingly...and he stared at her for a long, hard moment. It would be so easy to just let it happen, to fall again...to trust enough to let himself go there. No, he didn't know her. And what he didn't really didn't lend itself well to trust and faith. She didn't even truly know who she was, how was he supposed to just ignore that? And she was reckless with him, aggressive and quick to bed him. Hardly a shining example of what he looked for in a friend. A confidant. A lover. This was simply temporary, and that was exactly how he needed to view it. This was a fling, only a fling, something to look back fondly at a much later date, but nothing real. He cared, and would definitely burn up the lines after this was over, to make certain she found her way back into a hospital, and stayed put until she was right again, but nothing more.

"Rakghoul." She stated it easily enough, as if she was pointing out someone's interesting hat, and Carth was dumped firmly back into the here and now. "Don't shoot at it...yet."

He caught a glimpse of it in the shadows, bulky, spiky, hunched over...nothing at all there to even hint that it had once been a person. "Only one." He muttered, more than amazed that she had seen it before he had. But then, he was simply the pilot. She was recon. On second thought, it shouldn't surprise him that her natural abilities and training beat his reliance on a gear kit. The holes in her memories didn't seem to put a dent in her skills.

The rakghoul jumped, spinning to face something coming from the opposite direction, and Carth leveled his blasters warily at it. Sarah echoed the motion, then rolled suddenly out of the way. The shot coursed between the pair of them, and Carth hid the ground with a belated rush. More shots, screams, and he flinched, trying to make himself small in the dubious cover of a battered, empty barrel half buried in the dead ground. Sarah was putting rounds down in a methodical, deliberate pace, utterly calm. It was infectious, and Carth looked over his trusty barrel. Three men coming in their direction...two wore panic on their faces, the third merely looked amused.

Mandalorian. Carth's first instinct was to take the shot, even though it had been four long years since the War had come to a decisive end...in the Republic's favor. And Sarah seemed to have her targets sorted out, the rakghouls coursing the men. Of course, since they were headed right at her, they were leading the rakghouls in. Carth hissed, targeting the same one that she was shooting at. Mass fire on a single target, keep his head, and get the pair of them through this.

The two men moved between them, giving them no attention at all, panicked into a state of fixation focused squarely on the elevator. They were obviously not Mandalorian, some sort of basic mercenary, but Carth was certain of his identification of the third. But at least the Mandalorian was willing to help clean up his own mess, now that he had support, he was laying down his own fire, chewing up the three rakghouls that had been giving chase, and the extra one attracted to the ruckus.

There was a long moment of silence, Sarah braced beside him, her stare unyielding and unflinching as she waited for targets, but none showed. The Mandalorian stood, moving slowly and cautiously in their direction, rifle down, but not slung.

"Thanks for the assist." He offered, giving both Carth and Sarah a slow, measuring stare. He was an older man, easily a couple of decades older than Carth...cropped salt and pepper hair, every inch the grizzled veteran. He was equal to Carth's height, bulky in armor. "Canderous, of Clan Ordo."

"Devid...Sinoa, and my wife, Sarah." It was an old game, one that Dustil had played, mixing up the letters of his name...making an alter ego... the great Republic intelligence agent Udlits Sinoa. His loss hit Carth suddenly, stunning him back into silence, and he gave Sarah a helpless look. She moved in an instant, stepping close, bringing that amazing tranquility with her. Her presence was like a drug, one that sorted out his emptiness, gave it all a good shake, and put it back on a straight path. And that scared the hell out of him...it was one thing to think their relationship was temporary, but if he learned to rely on it, count on it, he'd pay a huge price for it at the end. Again.

"You two aren't from down here." Canderous's pale eyes coasted over the two of them, settling on Carth. Carth just stared back, all too well aware that he couldn't look less like one of the locals if he tried. He hadn't missed a meal until very recently. He was clean. His clothing was clean, intact, high quality. Sarah could possibly pass... she was a little sickly looking, worn down and pale.

"No. We aren't. Stuck here like everyone else is, though." Sarah took the front, leaving Carth to regain his composure. "We're looking for a young Twi'lek and a Wookiee."

"The kid?" The Mandalorian glanced back over his shoulder, "Yeah, saw her a couple of hours ago by the sewer access. Crazy one, that. Easier ways to make a credit, even on Taris." He shrugged. "Head that way..." He made a cutting gesture with his hand, pointing out the direction, "And you'll find the way in. If you're determined to go. Like I said, there are easier ways to make a credit, even on Taris..." He stared at Carth, then nodded. "But neither one of you are down here for a credit. Gotcha. I've given you all I know... good luck, and thanks."


	18. Chapter 18

Sarah could feel Carth's doubts, his reservations, his fears. They thrummed in the back of her mind, like a faint bass note reverberating. Oddly, it was not unpleasant, just omnipresent. It made her want to soothe them all away, to take him back to bed...to give him the calm that came afterward, but again, no time for that luxury. It would just have to wait, to keep...to simmer. That would just make the experience all the sweeter...

"Incoming." She stated, and he leveled his blasters forward, his attention fixed on the shadows.

"How do you do that?" He demanded, and she shrugged. She honestly had no idea... had she heard ragged breaths? The crunch of boots on ancient crumbled glass? It had to be hearing... everything ahead of her was just black shadows on a slightly less black background.

"Dunno. But..."

"Twi'lek. Young Twi'lek." He identified, and she raised a brow. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

"Let me guess...trailing half of Taris's rakghoul population in her wake?"

"No...but she sure doesn't look happy. And she's running like a fool..." He growled, setting his stance firmly and readying himself. Sarah didn't need any more of a warning, shadowing the motion.

She could hear it approaching, and while she still couldn't quite see it yet, Carth was right that it was no rakghoul... it ran on two feet. That didn't necessarily make it friend, though, and she stayed in position. But what fell out of the shadows was indeed a young Twi'lek girl, panting and desperate. She stared at the two of them, stunned, raising her hands into the uncertain light. "Don't shoot. Don't!"

"Mission Vao?" She definitely matched the description that Sarah had been given... how many teenaged rutian Twi'lek girls could there be running around down here? On second thought, knowing how the Tarisians viewed non humans, there could be quite a few...

"I'm Mission." She glanced between Sarah and Carth, "You're looking for me? Look, I don't have time for this...I really don't. Maybe later. I need to go get help..." If Carth thrummed with anxiety, Mission clanged with panic. Desperation was always a strong position to have someone that Sarah needed something from...in.

"You need help?"

Manic hope rose in the girl's wide brown eyes, and Sarah fought back a spreading smile. Oh, yes, she could definitely work with this... "My friend. They've taken my friend! Oh, please, help!"

"The rakghouls?" Carth muttered dubiously. "Wookiee...rakghoul..."

That was indeed an interesting visual, filled with chaos and destruction, but hardly anything that Sarah actually wanted to deal with. Something to be filed away for later thought and consideration...

"No, not the rakghoul! Gamorrean slavers. They jumped us, and..."

Sarah sighed, shaking her head. Of course they had, this pair would have been a real bundle of yum yum joy to a slaver. One male wookiee, everybody's favorite organic work machine, and one rather lovely example of adolescent female Twi'lek, everybody's favorite sex slave. Sarah wasn't surprised that it had happened, but she was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. But she could deal with Gamorreans, in fact, they were one of her favored targets.

"Where?" She cut into the girl's frantic patter. She didn't have the time nor inclination to listen to any more of it...the girl had a singularly annoying, high pitched voice...most of that was probably from panic, but Sarah had heard enough of it.

"The sewers, this way..."

She led the way to a large opening, and Sarah laughed aloud. She'd been imagining...sewers. Dark, dank, close and smelly. Frighteningly enough, this was a lot more well lit and welcoming than the Undercity behind them managed to be. The access lights still worked. The tunnel was broad, dry, with strong grates and secure handrails.

"Huh." Carth marveled behind her. "Who'd've thunk?"

She sent him a smile over her shoulder, as he stowed the glasses and thumbed off the low light screen on his blaster. "Lights." She agreed. Unfortunately, rakghoul were unimpressed by light, they were just as comfortable in full midday light as they were in complete darkness. But this way, they'd have a better chance of seeing them coming. "Lead the way, Mission."

"Right. They're this way."

As promised 'that way' was populated by Gamorreans, and Sarah snorted in amusement. Nothing should be that pleasurable to kill, nothing should have a dying squeal that plucked joy into her heart.

Far over Sarah's head, Bastila Shan raised her own head and studied the featureless wall next to her. Somewhere, Revan was in a killing spree, riding blood-lust, giving into joy, and Bastila shuddered in response.

Why now? Revan had been quiescent for months, throughout her hospital stay, and afterward. Things had been silent from her, a distant slumber. But the very moment she slipped from Bastila's watch, away from the Council's leash, she started to wake up. To come back to herself. To finally start giving Bastila the visions that the Council had been praying for. Here, where Bastila could do nothing whatsoever... That was probably it, Revan had bided her time, seemed to be dead to herself, waiting for her opportunity, and she had it now. Maybe she had engineered this, masterminded her own escape. Maybe hers had been the call that the Leviathan had responded to. Had Bastila just given the Sith their Dark Lord back, returned Revan to them? If she had, then it was all over. All she had to do was wait...and Revan would come for her. They'd played a dangerous game, a desperate game, and they'd lost. They'd put Revan back together, and now had her loose on Taris, with a force bound link to Bastila. It was all over. All done. She'd failed, worse than failed, she'd given her enemies more than they'd ever had before.

What was it like to fall? It had happened to Revan, once a bright and shining light, a paragon. It had happened to Alek, drawn along with his friend, his companion, and as the rumors whispered, his lover. They had both been better Jedi than Bastila; older, more experienced, strong in the Force. Their nadir was as deep as their zenith had been high...

Maybe Bastila would get lucky. Maybe Revan wouldn't come for her. Maybe the Sith wouldn't find her. When Taris was retaken by the Republic, she could get out of this predicament she'd found herself in.

"Who are you fooling?" She whispered. It was not fair, she was equipped with a neural disruptor, Revan shouldn't be able to reach her like this. Revan wasn't loud, but her focus was deepening. Bastila got more and more back through the bond, and what she felt didn't comfort her. They had simply rewritten the Dark Lord's memories, but they hadn't managed to purge the darkness from her. The Dark Lord rose again, and Bastila was now firmly bound to her.


	19. Chapter 19

Carth was heartened to see Sarah looking so much better. It was as if she'd been asleep on her feet, and suddenly awoke fully. She was beautiful again, her gaze clear, her actions sharp. Mine.

Wait, what? No. That was sheer stupidity on so many levels. Just wrong. He barely knew her, sleeping with her once and only once, did not give him the right to suddenly get possessive. Or even proud. He'd grown beyond the adolescent 'I tapped that!' stage...hadn't he? It didn't help that she had fallen into a stalking, swaying strut...it didn't help that, as if she'd heard his thoughts, she gave him a hooded, smoldering glance and blew him a kiss.

"Knock that off." He sputtered, and she grinned at him. "We've got a Wookiee to rescue."

She shrugged, waved a hand towards the tunnel ahead. "And more Gamorreans to kill. Win win."

His answering look was unimpressed, while they weren't exactly his favorite race either, he didn't approve of her joy in their slaughter. He was here for a reason, for a job that had to be done. "Think of their poor little morrts, you're leaving them homeless."

"The fact that you're using their parasites as an arguing point merely supports my disdain. They're slavers...Devid." She took his elbow and turned him to face Mission. "Just...think...about that. They're running loose, down here...in a target rich, unprotected environment. Easy pickings."

He growled, shrugging out of her grasp. "I never said they shouldn't be dealt with, Sarah. But perhaps they should be handled with a little less enthusiasm."

Her return gaze was contemplative, measuring, weighing, and he sighed, shaking his head. He wouldn't, couldn't back off of this. He understood she was...not quite right...but that gave him the responsibility to pick up the slack, not the opportunity to run with her. "Sarah." He breathed, moving closely to her, eclipsing Mission's view and hearing to give them a modicum of privacy. He reached out, resting his palm against her cheek, before leaning in to kiss her hair. "Please."

She rested her hand over his fingers, before she nodded slightly. "Right." She muttered, "Feel sorry for the poor homeless morrts, now stranded in the sewers of Taris."

"None of that."

"Oh, I know! They'll become rakghoul pets. They'll..."

He had to laugh, in spite of his better judgment, and she gave him a triumphant smirk in return. "Rescue. Wookiee." He breathed into her hair.

"Right. Rescue wookiee."

"So...you two are together?" Mission asked from behind him, curiously, and Carth glanced back at her. Cute kid, well on her way to gorgeous adult, and Sarah's dark warning rang all too true in his heart. Taris was the absolute worst place he could think of to put a twi'lek female on the rise to sexual maturity. He'd never been one to go there, he had a fancy for women of his own species, and set a high value in knowing that they were perfectly willing as well. So many twi'lek weren't...

"Sarah's my wife." Again, that fell too easily from his lips. "I'm Devid." That didn't fall nearly as easily, he had to struggle for it. He was Carth. She was Sarah. And they were together. Those were easy. Anything off of that path was difficult to grasp.

"Humans, but not from Taris." Mission mused, staring at them both. "Stuck here by the blockade?"

"That's an affirmative."

"Sucks. There are rumors that the Sith like humans stuck here by the blockade, if you know what I mean."

Carth did. He had few illusions about what would happen to him if he was captured. He'd break, eventually. "They say the force can do terrible things to a mind." He breathed, running his fingers through his hair. The idea of that was almost as horrible to him as being attacked by a rakghoul, and the thought of losing Sarah to the Sith made him ill to consider it. She was already damaged... "It can wipe away your memories, destroy your very identity." That would shatter her, and make him just like Karath... a name to be feared and hated, everything he had done, everything he had stood for, burned away in an instant. Another traitor.

"Not going to happen." Sarah stated firmly, a river of confidence again. "We go get...?" She snapped a finger in Mission's direction, and the girl nodded shyly.

"His name is Zaalbar. Big Z."

And Carth was certain the wookiee in question just adored that one. It annoyed him, a reminder of just how young she really was. She shouldn't be here. At least he was an adult. A soldier. At least Sarah was the same. He'd gone to war, and he was willing to bet she had as well.

"Soooo..." Mission continued, "Where are you two from, originally?"

"Telos." He muttered, watching the momentary shutdown cross Sarah's features. He now recognized it as what it was, her attempt to dredge up a memory that might, or might not, come.

"Deralia. I'm from Deralia. Little place out in the Tammuz sector. Outer Rim."

He whistled, shaking his head. He'd thought that Telos was remote, but no, she had just trumped him big time in the timeless 'I'm from the bum fuck nowhere part of the galaxy!' challenge game. "It's okay, darling. It didn't take you long to figure out how to use indoor plumbing."

She yanked her head around to stare at him, her eyes wide, brows raised. "You...ass! You are going to pay for that...later. I promise."

"Promises, promises. I will hold you to that." What in the hell was he doing?! Teasing her? Was he just begging for...? Yes, he was. He was just begging for it, it had been so long since he'd been able to tease, to banter, to joke with a woman...with the thought that it might just lead to bed play, to something more. She tilted her head, entranced by him and not bothering to hide it.

"Ah, geesh." Mission grumbled loudly, and Sarah's attention shot back to her. "I'm sorry I asked. Why were you two looking for me, anyway?"

"We need you to get us in the back door of the Black Vulkar's base. Gadon says you know how. We help you get Zaalbar back, in one piece, and..." Sarah waved her hand, hinting at a forward motion, and Mission nodded, her lekku bobbing in time with her head, striding along with Sarah. Carth was left bringing up the rear, trying to avoid watching..rears.

As much as he hated to admit it, Mission was good...a dead on shot, as good as Sarah, easily, possibly even better. Sarah seemed rusty, uncertain, about what he'd expect for someone who had spent months down. And he was a pilot...but at least the average Gamorrean boar was as big as a speeder, and not nearly as fast. Even he could hit them easily enough. It would have been too much for Mission to break through, alone, but the three of them had little difficulty cutting through them, and silence reigned after the last cacophony of squeals faded.

"Go get your friend now, Mission." Sarah said, beginning to rifle the bodies scattered across the floor in a opening where four sewer tunnels intersected into a large hub. It looked like a control point to Carth, a pump substation, probably. A perfect place to hold a reluctant wookiee until the blockade lifted and the ships started moving again. But now, the Gamorrean slavers were dead, their corpses being picked over by an unamused Sarah.

"I suppose it was optimistic to hope they'd have more than smelly crap, newly homeless furry ticks, some power cells and enough credits to buy a hot drink between them?" She grumbled, and he shrugged. Gamorrean slavers were not a high opportunity target, but she knew that.

"I'll be sure to get you that hot drink when we get back up." He joked, and she shrugged in answer, watching Mission go to work on the locking panel of the nearest door...which was the only secured one. The others were open, showing cluttered small rooms. Sarah shook her head when she followed his gaze.

"No. Ain't going to happen." She muttered rebelliously, and he chuckled, resting a hand on her shoulder. She rested her cheek against it for a moment, her skin was warm...he could feel the throb of her heartbeat in her neck...

"Zaalbar! Oh, Zaalbar, it's you! You're okay!"

Sarah flinched at the squeal, and gave him a conspiratorial stare when he dropped his hand, startled, towards his holster. "Kids." He muttered. Even if he'd meant to say more, it would have been drowned out by the sounds of a wookiee in an expressively vocal mood.


	20. Chapter 20

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Mission!" Sarah frowned at the sheer level of noise, supposedly wookiees could be quiet...stealthy hunters amongst the wroshyr trees. If so, she'd love to see...or hear... it happen, it would be a new experience. "You came. How?"

"It's great to see you too, Big Z! You didn't think I'd forget about you? Mission and Zaalbar, together forever." Her voice faded abruptly off when the huge, male wookiee enveloped her in a giant hug, smothering her in hair.

"Who's that with you?" He asked, catching sight of Sarah and Carth, half turning to place Mission on his other side, away from them.

"These are my new friends, Big Z. Without them, I never could have got you out." Mission crowed, gesturing at the pair of them.

"I'm Sarah, and this is my husband, Devid." Sarah greeted, waving back towards Carth. He gave a slightly goofy grin and a jaunty salute in answer, and Sarah wasn't sure if she wanted to slap him for it, or kiss him.

" You know the language of my people? That is rare among your species, I'm impressed. And your partner?" Zaalbar stared at Carth, who merely gazed back, uncomprehendingly.

"Husband." If she wrapped herself up in it, if she believed it, then he'd believe it. As for Carth, he'd been flinging it around easily enough...

"Mate? You are a mated couple?" That question carried weight, but Sarah was stuck. Back out of the lie? Or own it? Play semantics, knowing that the word he used meant married at its heart, but came across as mate? Wookiees were devastatingly faithful...

"Yes."

"Ah. That makes this easier. "You have both saved me from a life of servitude and slavery."

Sarah didn't quite like exactly where this was heading. She just wanted them to help her get the engine accelerator...not this. If what she was fearing came to pass, she had just gotten a wookiee forever. And a teenaged twi'lek to boot. "Look, don't worry about that...all we need is a little help."

"My life is yours, you have saved me from a fate worse than death and the only payment worthy of that is my lifedebt. I will swear it to you, and your lifemate. Your family, Sarah."

Rescue me, Carth. Butt in. Any time now would be good. But no, that one was oblivious, watching closely, but not getting the majority of the conversation. He was looking for a threat, not for this... I should have never admitted I understood, but no, I had to go and show off.

"That's not what we're looking for, at all." Again, she tried to put the brakes on, to slow it down. Some of her hesitation must have finally filtered through Carth's thick head, because his returning gaze was concerned and wary.

"A lifedebt? Are you sure about that, Big Z? Think about it carefully, you had better be sure about this."

"I am sure, Mission. This is an issue of great importance to me. Because of our great physical strength, Wookiees are being used as slave labor on our own homeworld. They see us as brutes and animals to be exploited. Over the years, slavers have taken many of our people. We must always be on guard against raids against our villages. When the Gamorreans captured me, I thought I was doomed to a life of servitude. I have been saved from such a fate, and the only way I can repay that is through a lifedebt."

"Big Z swearing a wookiee lifedebt to you? Wow, this is major. Do you realize what it means?"

Yes, unfortunately Sarah did. And by Carth's suddenly still expression, he wasn't nearly as lost as he had been just moments before, back when he was blissfully unaware of what was going on over his head.

"A lifedebt is the most solemn vow a wookiee can make. It means he'll stay by your side for the rest of your life, wherever you go, whatever you do, Zaalbar will be with you." Mission continued, as if Sarah had replied, and replied in the negative...and her words merely confirmed exactly what Sarah was dreading.

"In the presence of you all, I swear a lifedebt. Forever after, I will be by your sides, Sarah and Devid. May my vow be as strong as the roots of the great wroshyr trees of Kashyyk." Zaalbar intoned, and Sarah felt something catch, something...click...on the edges of her perception. It was almost audible, tangible.

"I guess this means you're stuck with me, too. Wherever Big Z goes, I'm going. I almost lost him once, It's not going to happen again." Mission stated, stubbornly, jutting her chin out. There was fear under her bravado, anxiety, but she was doing her best to hide it.

Yep. That was definitely, absolutely what Sarah was afraid of. Somehow, in one well intentioned fell swoop, she'd gained a wookiee. And trouble wrapped up in a twi'lek teenager's body. Things had just become a lot more complicated than they had been...which was saying something, indeed. She sighed, walking back to Carth and leaning her forehead against his chest. Her vision was filled with orange...just orange...

"Sarah? Want to fill me in, here?" He asked, resting his arm across her shoulders, creating a pocket of near privacy when he placed his forehead against her hair. "Wookiee lifedebt? To you? Those are nothing to take lightly..."

"To us, my dear husband. You, me, to our family."

"Oh. I mean...oh. Um... we'd be honored?"

"Yeeeeeaaaaah. And we apparently get Mission as a plus one as part of the bargain."

He was silent for a long moment, a silence she was beginning to recognize. It wasn't that he had no words, it was that he did...but wasn't sure she'd appreciate them at all. "Good." He finally stated, and she glanced at him through her eyebrows. "Somebody needs to look after her. This just proved it."

Somebody, sure...but why Sarah? "You're such a..." What? Paladin? Do-gooder? Shining knight? Just genuinely nice guy? Decent. The idea flushed her cold, and she felt suddenly sick. "I..."

"Look like you've seen a ghost." He breathed, gathering her up into his arms. "Did you get hit? Sick again? Dizzy? What?"

"I feel like I'm falling." She forced the words through suddenly numb lips, and he grimaced, kneeling to take all of her weight instead of just most of it.

"No, no, no." He muttered, then jerked back slightly from her. "It's okay, Mission. I've got her."

"I'm such a candy ass."

"You're fine. You just need a moment." He breathed, settling her weight more comfortably into his arms and bowing his head. His eyes were closed, and she searched his face with her own...finally giving into the urge to rest her fingertips on his cheek. He snorted slightly, his lips twisting in a half smile, but did not open his eyes. "Let me know when you're better."

I'm wonderful. I'm fine, better than fine. You're amazing. I don't deserve you.

What foolishness. It wasn't like she even had him to think she deserved having him. It was all just an act. Fake. Empty. A game. "I'm good, Devid."

"Good." He helped her to her feet, deliberately avoiding the stares from the other two. "I'd love to get you to a doctor." He stated aloud, boldly.

"Cheya." She responded dismissively. Any doctor she would have trusted belonged to the Sith now. There was no way she was going to trust a street doc with this.

"You're okay?" Mission asked, shadowed by her own looming male. "You look a little pale...I guess. You kind of always do."

"Great. The twi'lek is a laugh a minute." Sarah growled. "I'm fine. Let's get going before we attract rakghouls."

"You're here to get into the Vulkar base, right? Then we're already headed in the right direction...just your luck that I happen to know the way to the back door. I mean, I have a good idea of where..." Sarah gave her a killer look and the teen gave her a cringing smile back. "I've been there before. I made it past the rancor. I can slice the security panel once we get there..." She kept talking, but Sarah was beginning to realize that she could be tuned out.

"Did she say...rancor?" Carth asked nervously, and she only shrugged. Every answer she could come up with would just get her a scandalized, horrified response from him, and he'd shut her out again. She preferred him open, happy, caring...she didn't like the shadow of recrimination that screamed his disapproval. Why did it matter? Why was she actually trying to please him? This went beyond pandering to an ally she desperately needed to keep on her side.

So what? Was it damning that she might want to keep him for a little while? It wasn't as if she was stepping on toes...he'd made it perfectly clear that he was completely single. She was pretty certain she was as well. Who was it hurting?

You don't deserve another good man.

And that idea was getting old fast. What could she have done to have that thought following her around? If he liked her, and she liked him, where was the harm?

You broke the last one you had.

How? Who? If she couldn't remember, how could she know? Was it even true? Was she simply being held to coma dreams? The remnants of delirium?

I can't do this alone.

Well, that made so much more sense. Why go through this alone, if she didn't have to? He was here. He made her feel safe. Secure.

"I'll protect you from the rancor." Even if I have to feed the wookiee to it for a diversion, a running start away.

"Uh huh. Sure you will. And the rakghouls. I'll just curl up in your arms and you can carry me through the sewers.

Sarah opened her mouth, the first retort to fly into her mind ready on her lips, but again, she yanked it back. No. No snarky comments about the impossibility of her carrying a man of his size through the sewers, punctuated by a reference to his difficulties fitting into the sith trooper's armor... "You were doing such a great job of carrying me earlier."

He laughed, resting his hand on the back of her neck. "That's nothing. You're pretty light...too light, if you ask me."

"Great, now you're calling me skinny." Well, she hadn't gone for it, but apparently he felt no compunctions about the reverse. And oddly, it did sting a little.

"Shit, no. I mean, I'm...er." He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts, his words. "I'm well aware that you're not at your best. And you are thin. I owe you that dinner, after all. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can hold me to that."

"After the rancor. And the rakghouls."

The rakghoul were actually not that much of an issue, the pipes kept them coming straight on, in small numbers, and were well lit enough to see them well ahead of time. Mission kept a confident pace, staying close to the wookiee, and Sarah knew that Carth's assessment was all too valid. Those two couldn't stay on Taris. How they were supposed to get them off was another question altogether, but they'd need to find a way. And yes...soon. Very soon.

There was an arm in the tube-way, and Sarah stared at it warily. It was still attached to a datapad, and she delicately picked it up by the edge of the pad...ignoring Carth's fascinated stare as she did so. He said nothing when she had to give it all a good shake to convince the locked fingers to finally release the pad.

"Anything useful?" He asked when she scanned the screen quickly.

"Maybe." She sighed, pocketing it. Always a useful thing to have...and hers had gone down with the Spire. "If we can find the rest of him."


	21. Chapter 21

"Are we actually looking for the rest of him?" Carth had been asked to keep his eyes open for stranger things in his life.

"Yeah, actually. He says he had some sort of rancor bait scent on him."

"Well, that explains why we haven't found the rest of him, Sarah." Rancors didn't need encouragement to eat people...they just did it naturally, with great gusto. Who needed bait?

"Yeah, yeah. In case you're wrong..." She waved him off, distracted, and he merely shrugged in answer. He could feel Mission's greedy eyes on him...so his 'wife' was distracted, and the teenager was fixated. Why him?

"What?" He finally asked when Mission didn't look away.

"Nothing. I mean, it's been a long time...most people aren't... it's cool, isn't it? To have someone? I mean..."

Poor kid. And he felt like slime lying to her...he wasn't in a long term, death do us part relationship with Sarah. He didn't really have someone, anymore. But he had, once. "Yes, Mission." He sighed, fighting the dread out of his syllables. To her, his wife was alive, breathing, and less than three meters away from him. "It's cool to have someone. One of these days, you'll figure that out if you haven't already."

The twi'lek blushed, grimaced. "There was a guy once." She admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. "My brother said it was a puppy crush. He was probably right...but I'd still like to see him again. I was...young, very young."

"So, tell me about him."

"Zayne? Oh, he's...wonderful. His hair...his eyes... He's a great Jedi."

"Zayne? Zayne...Carrick?" Carth would have taken the immediate identification back, in a second, if he could have. But then, that boy got around in a big way...there were plenty of places that Devid Sinoa, transport pilot, could have fallen over him. Obviously not the same places that Lieutenant Carth Onasi, Republic Navy, had... "I haven't seen that boy in...years." Yes, it had been years.

"You know him?" Mission looked both excited and completely dubious.

"I've met him...a couple of times." At least one of them had bitten Carth in the ass, cost him a promotion, but looking back...he'd do it all again. It had been the right thing. "He was a good kid, Mission. Have to see about getting you back together with him one of these days, if only to say hello again." If that one was even still alive, he'd been an immense trouble magnet. But Carth wasn't going to be the one to go there, to touch that doubt.

"Ah ha!" Sarah crowed triumphantly, and he cringed. Surely she hadn't actually managed to find it? The last thing he wanted to be toting through the Tarisian sewers was something she described as 'rancor scent bait'. That hadn't gone well for its last owner...

"Damn." He whispered, and Mission gave him a conspiratorial grin.

"I think she found it." She whispered back at him, and he gave her a sternly disapproving stare.

Well, no shit. He turned to find his beloved 'spouse' dragging a blood soaked backpack out of a spillway trough. "Oh, hush...a rancor couldn't fit in here, anyways." She scolded when he fixed her with the same sternly disapproving stare that he had just used on Mission.

"She's got a point." Mission whispered again, and he growled. "Hey, I got another question. No rings? You pawn them here, or something? For food? I mean, if you have, me and Big Z have contacts, people owe us...we can probably get them back..."

Sarah opened her mouth to start talking, but he cut her off. "No, it's okay, Mission. I have them...right here." He'd moved his identification tag off of its chain just after the escape pod's crash, but he still had his, and Morgana's, ring hanging from the chain. "See? Safe and sound."

"Good. I know things are hard here, especially for off-worlders stuck here. No gang. But you know Gadon, and now you're with Zaalbar and me. I mean, that makes you pretty much a member of the Beks...right?"

"Right. That's why they've sponsored me to ride one of their bikes for the Season Opener, if we can manage to get its missing part back." Sarah grumbled, staring from the depths of the pack, to the silent tube way ahead of her. "It's that way, right?"

"Right." Mission agreed. "That way to the rancor."

"Good." Sarah picked up the arm, shoved it into the pack, gave Carth a sudden kiss on the lips, and strode firmly in that direction, the pack dangling from her grasp.

"Um...dear? Darling?"

"Stay put. I'll be right back."

Oh, hell no. He rushed after her, catching up quickly. She wasn't running, she was just moving with a purpose, the faintest hint of a 'stop me if you dare' line between her brows. "Sarah, what the hell are you going to do?"

"Feed this to a rancor." She swung the pack merrily, and he bit his lip, doing his best to ignore the fact that the pack had fingers protruding from it. She didn't have to sound quite so pleased with herself...

"I hope to hell you've added explosives for added flavor and coloring."

"Yup, spicy Gamorrean grenades, yum yum crunchy."

"Damn." He couldn't help but laugh as she skipped ahead of him, "You're going to get yourself killed, you know."

"Not today, not today. I have a swoop race to win. Then we can talk."

Win? Somehow it had gone from 'enter, and have pit crew access' to get Bastila, to actually winning this. He had to hand it to her, she seemed to take it all in stride. Memory loss? No problem...she could still break into a sith trooper's armor in moments. Who was he? No problem, welcome him straight into her bed. Find Bastila? Bastila who? Oh, no problem. Kill a rancor with a handful of grenades, an arm, and some bait? Not a problem. Win the season opener for the Taris swoop circuit? Sure.

He felt it before he saw it, and paused in disbelief. That was definitely a youngish rancor, much too big to get out of the room it currently inhabited, imprisoned now by its size. Someone had to be feeding this...keeping it alive... and there weren't many things other than people on Taris... His moment of joy sank like it had never been born. By the suddenly steely stare on her face, he guessed she felt the same.

"Well, then." She growled, "Enough of this, I think." She reached into the bag, fumbled for a second, lobbed the pack into the room behind the rancor, and ran the other direction...back into the tunnel, back towards Mission and Zaalbar. Carth gave chase...she was fast, graceful...he'd never seen her actually move, run before.

"How long..."

BOOOOOOM. The tunnel shook, and dust gusted by him in a choking rush. His ears rang, his chest seized for a terrifying moment.

"That long." She answered, coughing and waving her hand. "I wasn't sure how many it would take...I might have went a little overboard."

He listened, felt, but the tunnel still seemed stable. "Better than underboard." He said, trying to brush as much of the dust and whatever else had landed on him off of his jacket, out of his hair. "Remind me to buy goggles before I take you anyplace else. Maybe a full face mask."

"Wahwahwah." She groused, "It's not like you've never breathed in crap before."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"Both." Her eyes glanced over to a fascinated Mission watching them, and he shrugged. He wasn't comfortable with this, wasn't comfortable with lying to the teenager, to the Wookiee...but he wasn't comfortable with trusting them either. For all of her apparent naivete, Mission was a street rat, attached to a gang. It could all just be an act. The whole thing could just be an act. At least he was certain that Sarah was a Republic soldier, vetted by the Jedi Council, attached to the Endar Spire by their order. But he didn't completely trust the Council, either... it had been their orders that had put Bastila on his ship...and sent that ship out on a meandering and pointless tour of the Outer Rim until they had run into the Leviathan, and her interdiction field here at Taris. "You have that look again." She muttered, and he shrugged. She was the ceaselessly confident and optimistic one, he'd never claimed to be either.

"Go check on your rancor, sister." He said, waving her off before she got started. He wasn't certain exactly what he'd consider her to be to him at this point, but she wasn't close enough to start this. "But be careful."

"Yes, dear." She brushed by him closely, and he accepted the touch solidly, falling into step behind her, blaster at the ready. There was no doubt that his concern was unwarranted when he got another look at the rancor...all of it...everywhere, the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the aerosol mist still hanging in the air...

"Overboard. Damn. I suppose the noise is going to bring concerned and friendly people to investigate?" Sarah looked expectantly at Mission.

"Probably not. That shield's pretty upgraded, and we're far below them. I doubt if they heard it."

"Good. Good." Sarah was moving towards 'that shield', a distortion of light rippling over the elevator entrance at the back of the room. "Ugh. Slicing..." She rubbed her temples for a moment, her gaze empty again. "I..."

"I can do it, no problem." Mission promised, eager to please, and Sarah stepped back, giving her a wave forward.

"So, what are we about to get ourselves into?" Carth asked, "I'm assuming gang members, happy to shoot first?"

"Yeah." Mission's face was screwed up concentration as she fiddled with the terminal. "But not many. Brejik doesn't allow most of them in the deep part of the base... he doesn't trust them."

"'Quality' over quantity, eh?" Sarah mused, her gaze locked on the young twi'lek's hands. Trying to remember, Carth understood. There was no way she was recon without this skill base, it just wouldn't happen. She knew one of the most difficult languages around, she had to have been taught slicing as well.

"Yeah...and it's...open, now." The rippling dissipated, and the door opened to reveal an empty elevator car. "So, I'm guessing we're after the accelerator that these idiots stole last week?"

"You'd be correct." Sarah confirmed, stepping into the elevator. Carth followed, Mission and Zaalbar coming last. "Let's go get it back."

As Mission had stated, the section beyond was mostly empty, and what little resistance they ran into was more than willing to scatter, to flee... And most of the time, they could outrun Sarah...who seemed to come equipped with the recon specialist distaste about letting her targets go once she had acquired them. He was not comfortable with her fixated attention, her sharp, mechanical response to every problem... it was like she clicked into a mode so contrary to the woman he was beginning to think he knew...and liked. But it had to be, and she was certainly getting the job done. And wasn't he the one who had tried desperately to remind her just imperative this was? Told her to do what she had to? She was following orders...his orders. He was the one who needed to man up, and get the job done. These were gang members. They had taken Bastila, and done...whatever...with her. They deserved the methodical contempt that Sarah was willing to unleash on them, that, and more.

"It's probably in the garage." Mission said, pointing in a general direction.

"And by now, the 'quality' people will be there as well. We can get this done with." Sarah's smile was filled with feral lust, and her stride was filled with promise and a lethal grace. And again, that very small voice, deep in Carth's soul whispered...mine.

There were three of what Sarah qualified as 'quality' people standing in the garage... all three twi'lek, two females and a male, and all three of them threw up red flags, warnings, and Carth faded farther back behind Sarah...to be able to watch all three of them at once. The women were a disturbing mix of sex and threat...some men got off on that, but everything about them just left a bitter taste in Carth's mouth and a queasy feeling in his stomach. They weren't inviting, even though they were scantily clothed...it was more of a "look what you can't have." presentation. It was obvious by Sarah's brightening expression that she felt the exact same way, and answered it in an entirely different manner than he did. No, she looked...amused, the quirk of a smile deepening the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, how very precious." She mocked, her voice as deep and gravelly as the one she growled with in her nightmares.

"So." The male began, shushing the women with a quick flick of his wrist...gaining Sarah's predatory grin focused on him. "You must be Sarah. The pazaak queen...amazingly stuck here after the blockade came up. Well after. And, in spite of the fact that you have a skill...you're here with Gadon's pet mascot...why? Oh, I think I know..."

The amusement vanished off of Sarah's face, it became very still, very cold, very set...dead. "They promised you the woman, didn't they?" He continued, apparently unfazed by the death engraved on her features. "You break in here, get the accelerator, ride the bike...and get the woman."

"You missed a step." Yes, that was indeed the voice from the times she tossed and turned, threatening people in her dreams. "Between breaking in here and getting the accelerator...the part where I kill you and the dominatrix twins."

"We've been trying to make contact with you and your..." His eyes moved to Carth, who did his best to look as coldly unimpressed as Sarah managed quite adeptly. "Bed companion."

"Cut to the chase. Growing old here."

"Join us instead. The Beks can't keep the two of you safe, can't keep you hidden...in spite of their name... but we've kept the woman hidden from the Sith. We can hide you. They'll lose interest eventually, and we'll have ex Republic soldiers on the payroll then. Why go back? A pathetic salary? You'd do better than that at a pazaak table...you probably do. Neither one of you is young, dumb and full of cum anymore...I'd say. Reached a certain age, a certain... season. Know better by now, the military life is just a farce. Seen how small your retirement stipend is going to be... yes?"

"I want the woman." That voice, Sarah's voice, sent shivers up the back of Carth's back, and it obviously unnerved the male twi'lek as well. He didn't look nearly as confident as he had just moments ago.

"That can probably be arranged."

"Probably? No. I don't go for...probably. Certainly is a much better word, especially for you, especially now. Give me the woman."

"She isn't here..."

Carth had seen fast before, but he wasn't quite certain just how Sarah had come up with the grenade. He was certain her aim was dead on, and all hell broke loose. His first worry was about Mission, but that one seemed more than willing, ready and able to take care of herself in a firefight, backed up by the wookiee. And Sarah was as inscrutable an opponent as he'd ever seen. Then, as quickly as it all got started, it was silent.

"Wow." Mission marveled, coming out from behind the crate she'd been using as cover. "That was short. I can't believe that snake tried to talk you into betraying the Beks. What a loser!"

"Hmmm." Sarah breathed, the focused malice melting off of her like a shadow under a floodlight. When she lifted her eyes to Carth, they were steady, not icy or disdainful. "Let's get our accelerator, wipe the cameras, and get the hell out of here before more 'quality' people arrive."

"On it." Mission crowed, moving towards the closest terminal while Sarah started to go through the cases scattered across the floor.

"Tell me it's here." Carth said, trying to watch every corner all at the same time. They'd certainly made enough noise...

"Yes. It's here." She shoved one of the cases towards the wookiee. "Zaalbar, carry that, and let's go."


	22. Chapter 22

Sarah woke, warm and comforted... in spite of the hazy, disjointed dream she'd been having. Again, Bastila, again the bridge of that ship. Warning klaxons, the sounds of combat, the smell of smoke, a chill wind and a plunging feeling, falling into a depth... and it was gone in the moment that she opened her eyes.

Carth slept next to her, on his side, turned to her. His hand was open on her belly, his head pillowed on his other arm. He was right where he was supposed to be, next to her...wherever she was. That was the interesting question...she slept on a mattress on a floor, not a real bed. She was not in a room, exactly, but in a private nook formed by several packing crates used as walls. She heard others around her, their voices were low...like soldiers on guard. It was 'night' still, or very early 'morning'. Quiet camp time in the Hidden Beks base. She sighed, rolling over into Carth's grasp and resting her forehead against his chest, breathing in his scent, memorizing his heartbeat.

Mine.

It was enough to make her chuckle. Hardly hers, like most men, he'd certainly not turned her down, but that meant little. Although he'd fallen seamlessly into the role of 'husband', it was simply an act. A very good act, but an act, nonetheless.

"Morning." He breathed, burying his face in her hair. "Or is it?"

"Don't think so. I had another dream is all. Go back to sleep."

"Ah, okay. C'mere." He wrapped his free arm around her back, pulling her close, into his warmth. It was welcome...it was chilly in the bay, the floors were metal and this span had never been designed to be heated for habitation. He made it easy for her to simply close her eyes and drift next to him.

She was in the arms of a man, he was tall enough to rest his chin comfortably on the back of her head. His stance was both protective, he radiated a sternly immobile aura...and loving...one arm slung around her shoulders, the other crossed over her hips. He was so big that he dwarfed her, engulfed her, shielded her. He was her bulwark, her redoubt, her shelter. The sane, strong one, an anchor in the chaos.

"Are you okay?"

He laughed at her concern, his voice rich and calm. "I'm okay."

"I'm going to kill them. Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets away with this!"

"Shhhh. I make bald look good, little one. Don't you think? Or does it turn you off?"

"Hardly."

He shrugged, "Then let it go, my love. Let it go, let it go."

She nodded, but her heart, her soul, and her gut all screamed the same thing. Never.

She woke up again, knowing that it was firmly 'morning'. The man next to her was smaller, less imposing than the one in her dreams, and was most certainly not bald, but he pushed most of the same buttons as the man in the dream had. He'd do.

"Plans for today?" He asked, and she sat up, tucking the blankets back down around him as she did.

"By now, they should have the accelerator installed. I need to..." Do what, exactly. "Make sure the bike is right..for me."

"Do you even know jack shit about bikes?" He flopped over onto his back, shading his eyes with his forearm, watching her from beneath his cuff.

"Um, yeah. Just don't ask me how. I think we used them...during the..." She snapped her fingers in frustration. "War. War? Yes, the War. We used them as scout vehicles. Recon. I...yes, damnit, I do know how to fly one...well." Better than any fool racer...she'd been chased by people trying to kill her, where her skills on one had been the difference between life and death. For her. For the troops counting on her. She could do this shit. They'd never know what hit them.

The doubt fled his features, they schooled themselves back into that earnest honesty she was used to. "That makes sense." He said, his relief obvious. "I mean, yeah...that makes a whole lot of sense."

Of course it did. And it better be right, because tomorrow she went on a track and put it to the test. But today, today she worked with mechanics. She stood, running her fingers through her hair. It was, as usual, happily straight and accepted finger combing in lieu of an actual comb. She tied it back, stretched, and yawned. She'd slept in her clothes, of course, as had Carth. "You know where you'll find me." She said, sliding into her boots and emerging out into the main bay to look for the mechanics.

"There you are." Mission called, as if the girl hadn't known exactly where Sarah was the whole damn time. "Over here!"

She stood at the edge of a maintenance pit, staring down. The bike rested in it, and Sarah was relieved to see that it was intact, every housing locked down. "You can fly one of these, right?" Mission demanded, and Sarah nodded. The details were not anything she wanted to get into, but yes, she was pretty sure she could.

"The accelerator is...finicky." The mechanic in the pit with the bike warned slowly. "I know it would be best if we could get you onto the track with it, but that isn't going to happen. Sorry. You'll get a couple of runs with it...no more. Make them count."

Mission's face fell, every emotion painted on it, but Sarah had heard phrases much like that before...and was still here. "Gotcha. I still want to at least sit on it. Test the grips, the weight, find out where my crouch is."

"Right. Let's winch her out of here, and you can have your time with it." It was lifted out, set on the floor, and Sarah ran her fingertips over the seat, listening to the voice in the back of her head. Good long seat, you'll be able to sit deep and low. Too far back, last rider was taller, you'll be top heavy like that.

"I can already tell you the seat's too far back." It was an ugly bike, mismatched, battered, exactly what she was used to. "Get it pushed up about 10 centimeters, and close up the angle on the grips. I'll be sitting low."

His return look with filled with a grudging respect and he nodded. "Right away."

How many times have I sat like this, supervising someone working on my gear? She wasn't certain, but it was an unusually familiar feeling. An odd tie to a life she didn't recall. "There." He said, stepping back and waving her up to the bike. "Just an eyeball at this point, get in a crouch and we'll see how close we are."

She mounted the bike, frowning instantly. "I'll need seat weight. At least 30 kilos, and drop the frame...about this far." She spaced her hands apart. "I'm still too short. And light."

"Thirty kilos? You're crazy. We want to strip her down lighter, not add weight."

"Oh, fucking great. Make it faster and less stable. No, just do as I say, damnit. Thing's skittery as hell, and that's at rest. And I want the pins taken out of the grips. I want them to fly."

"And that's even more crazy!"

"Give her what she wants, Timo. She's the one flying it. It's her life, and she obviously knows what she's talking about. Weight the seat, drop the frame, take out the grip pins. We don't have a lot of time." Gadon had appeared behind her, and Sarah gave him a slight smile. "So, you do know what you're doing."

"Yup."

"Good. Good. You know you're not our only entry, right?"

"Of course." It didn't matter, Sarah was going to be the only entry that counted. Let them throw fifty bikes in, and she'd still take it. She didn't lose.

"I've sent Mission on a search to dig you up some flying gear."

Sarah grimaced, looking down at herself. She looked like the lowest of the low, disreputable, cast off, and there was a certain level of annoyance there. She wasn't particularly vain, but this was just pathetic. It suited her current circumstance, but. "Thanks."

"You're under our sponsorship, gotta make this look good."

"Uh huh." Sarah was honestly afraid to ask.

She spent the entirely of the day working, arguing, tweaking...getting to know the bike as best she could without actually running it. It was a rare luxury, she was used to being tossed on the nearest bike and being told to make do...in the field, they hadn't had the time for this. They'd used stock frames...

"Sarah. Dinner. Now."

Dinner? It was dinnertime, already? Now that it was brought up, her stomach was growling, and whatever that was that Carth had looked amazingly good. "Don't ask...I don't know, either. But it smells good." He gave her that lopsided smile that she knew was him admitting to a failure in his own eyes. He was a caregiver, a supporter, but he was lacking the tools he was used to having to get that job done correctly.

"Thanks." She took it from him, ignoring her scraped knuckles and sitting down to eat with him. "I think we've done all we can with it, anyway. It's done. It's all tomorrow now."

"You'll do fine." He said, sitting close enough beside her that his knee touched hers. It was a friendly, companionable closeness, easygoing and relaxed. A balm to her fragmented soul. She wasn't alone. "Mission watches us."

So she did. "She thinks we're something that we're not. And she wants that. Yearns for it. Stability. Commitment. A family. Belonging. Never alone."

He looked like she'd punched him in the gut, and she clenched her teeth together. Talk about saying the wrong damn thing at the wrong damn time... They were just all this tangled mess of angsty shit... Mission craving parents, a family. Carth craving what he'd once had, and lost. And Sarah, desperately trying to put pieces back together, what a fucking mess. They could make up their own damn support group with this...

"Are you easily embarrassed?" He asked suddenly, his eyes narrowed. He was thinking bad thoughts, gloriously bad thoughts.

"Nope." She was certain she wasn't. She'd carried on a relationship, in the field, she was sure of it.

"Good." He pulled her into his lap, his lips finding hers, his fingers in her hair. "I...uh...was hoping..."

"Yes."

She stood out of his lap, taking his hand and walking with him back to their little corner of the universe, dropping the tarp 'door' behind them with a definite 'go away and stay away' gesture. "I've been...uh...watching you all day."

And she'd been oblivious, busy with the bike. What a fool she was. "Good. I hope it was worthwhile." She let him take her down to the rumpled blankets...he'd started this, in an adorably shy way...he could take it from there. His touch was gentle, a little hesitant, and she had to yank back on her urge to take over. No. She needed to let him find his own way through this. And she was curious, what sort of a lover was he when he did the initiating?

"It was." He shrugged out of that jacket, tossing it into the corner. "Sarah, I'd like to...see where we can go with this. If possible. No guarantees, but..."

"Works for me."

"Good. I'm not... comfortable...with this, unless that's how it goes." His voice was low, pitched to not carry far. "I don't...and you're not..."

"Stop talking, unless it's to tell me how beautiful I am, and how much you want me." Time to let him off of his own hook, she understood what he was trying to say.

"You are amazingly beautiful, and I want you so very much." He breathed, burying his face in her throat, his hand sliding under her shirt. She stilled, just watching him...trying to engrave his features on her memory, this bare, unguarded expression. His thumbs were warm against her nipples, the edges of his teeth teasing her neck. She arched into his grasp, covered by his weight when he shifted to rest over her, his fingers sliding into her pants, along her flesh. "Take it off. All of it." He whispered into her shoulder. "I like you naked under me."

She sat up, complying with the request...thrilled by the weight of his eyes as he watched her. His pants left little to the imagination, his hardness strained against the fabric as she undressed, kneeling nude over him. "Your turn." She breathed, resting a hand on his belly. "I like you naked...on top of me...in me."

"Oh, yeah." He grinned boyishly, stripping bare. "No hurry, though. No hurry." He ran his hands down her sides, cupped her ass, still curious, gentle yet firm. "We aren't kids anymore. It's not a race."

Funny how that worked. The less time one had in their lives, the more willing one became to slow things down... She trailed her fingertips down his chest, down his belly, wrapping around him. He gasped, his eyes very wide as she stroked him gently, pulling up, pushing down. No rush, no hurry, just this...intimacy. An attempt to reach into someone, to be there with them, to have them with you. Take joy where you find it.

No, she was not going there. That one didn't belong here, now. He was gone. If she expected Carth to be in her bed without his ghosts, she'd damn well give him the same back. And anyway, there was a living, breathing, aroused man with her, amusing himself by sliding his middle finger between her lower lips, testing, teasing. A man with the wherewithal to do something other than simply haunting her.

"Yessss..." She breathed, clutching at his shoulders, trying to tug his face closer to hers. He refused to budge, studying her expression from his higher vantage point. He added the width of his ring finger, delving deeply within her with them, his thumb moving along her clit with each push.

"I want to watch." He whispered when she tried to pull him down to her level again. "I want to see. Just relax."

"Okay." She pillowed her head on her arms, closed her eyes, and relaxed under his touch. Once she had calmed, relaxed, he used his other hand to spread her lips wide, holding her knee to his chest with the crook of his elbow, everything exposed to his gaze.

A gush, coating his hand, and she tightened around his fingers. She wanted him...not this teasing irritation... the orgasm startled her, it hadn't been there, and then it suddenly was... she felt her slack jawed response, possibly the least appealing expression she could have managed...spacey, empty... and then the rodent squeal to make it fully complete.

"Shhhh." He soothed, "Yeah, just like that..." The same fingers, holding her wide, and then he penetrated in one easy, deep thrust...pushing her immediately into the next orgasm, her head lolling bonelessly on her spine when he slid an arm under her shoulders, the other under her hips, bringing her tight to him. And all she could do was hold onto him, riding it with him until he was done with a shudder and a growling cough, collapsing next to her. "Wow." He marveled, pulling the blankets over them and holding her close. She sighed in joy...there was absolutely nothing at all wrong with the world. All of those doubts, those demons, and voices were gone... vanished.

And, not very far away, Bastila was yanked out of a deep sleep, a bright flush rising on her cheeks. What the hell? "You have got to be kidding me." She grumbled, turning over. She was bound to Revan, who was apparently having a much better time on Taris than she was. And tomorrow... well, Bastila didn't want to think about that, at all.

"You have got to be kidding me, Mission." Sarah growled, "I'm here to win a race, not..."

"Look good doing it? Look, it's racing gear. You have to have seen it before, right? You have raced before, right? Timo says you know bikes.."

Sarah was certain that she had not raced, or worn anything even remotely like this while she'd ridden a swoop on scouting missions. "This crap looks like it's painted on."

"Less drag...and it doesn't catch, fray, or tear like this. This is what everybody else will be wearing..."

That felt like a lie...or a near truth, and Sarah fixed her with a stare. "Okay, you're probably the only woman racing today." She finally admitted when the silence drew long. "It looks good on you."

Unfortunately, that it did. It was clean. It was new. It was the absolute correct size. It had not come cheaply, and Sarah reined in more complaints. "Devid is never going to let me live this one down." She muttered, pulling the tabs on the full arm gauntlets tight.

"Oh, after last night, I doubt that! I mean... Never mind. It's too late to find you anything different, anyway." Mission gave her one last look, fussing with one of the two vertically aligned tails she'd finally convinced Sarah's hair to stay in. "You sign up in less than an hour, and you can't be seen in public in what you were wearing."

"I could steal Devid's jacket. It's even the right color..." What were the chances that she'd race for a street gang...whose gang colors had that same orange in them?

"No."

That had Mission worried, because Sarah could do it...might even do it. "Fine, Mission. You win, this time." She sighed, picking up the goggles and hanging them around her neck. She would wear this, because Mission was correct...there was no more time, and it truly was more practical and protective than the clothes she'd been wearing. The helmet, gauntlets, neck and shoulder protection, even the outside of her legs, covered in ceramic mesh...everything else was skin tight compression fabric, dark green with orange piping and seam stripes. Even the jacket, which it did indeed have, did nothing to destroy the aura...in fact, when Sarah slid it on, it somehow made it more obvious.

"It's not like you're fat. Or..." Mission's hands described mountains over her chest. "I mean, you look good. He's got to like what he sees, right?"

"Who?"

"Devid, silly. You know, your husband. The guy you slept with last night."

Oh, boy. It was going to be one of those days. Sarah merely locked her fingers together...making certain her gloves were set right. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be discussing her sex life with a teenager she'd met only a couple of days before. "Let's go, Mission." She didn't need any more questions. Eventually, she'd be asked ones she couldn't answer correctly. And that's when things would start to fall apart. Better to just stay on target, here. She was about to do something she had never done before...race swoops...on a machine that was going to fail today. There had been no hiding that, nor even an attempt. She'd get only a handful of runs, and that was it. She had to make them count.

She followed Mission to the pits, catching sight of Carth immediately. Of course, a hangar jacket was colored that way for just that idea... He was standing with her pit crew, his back to her, when she walked up. "Hey." She greeted, and he turned.

"H..." And the rest of the word failed him, entirely. His expression was nothing but one very raised eyebrow and slightly lax mouth. "Hello." He tried again, and succeeded almost admirably. "Er...really?"

"Lodge all complaints with Mission. Are we still good to go?"

"Does Mission also get the compliments, sister, or are you taking those?" He asked, taking a long look, and not bothering to hide it in the least bit.

Mission laughed outright, nodding in vindication. "See. I told you..."

"So you did. Are we good to go, or not?"

"We're good." Timo stated, wiping his hands on a filthy cloth and shaking his head in bemusement. "Go register."

Ah, yes. The walk of the scantily clad.. down through multiple male pit crews to the registration desk. Oh, well, if she had to had...then she was going to do it with her chin up and a swagger in her step. Fuck them all.

"Sarah, flying for the Hidden Beks."

The registrar looked at her, looked at his data pad, then nodded. "All in order. Good luck, you're going to need it."

"Yeah, yeah." She was so not in the mood for those sorts of games. She spun, returning with the same panache as she'd left with, fixing Carth with a half smug, half challenging stare the whole way. He just smiled, giving her a sheepish half shrug. "Can I at least get a holopic? You...the bike? For memory's sake?"

"Sure. Sure." She leaned against the bike, giving him the smile she knew he was going to argue for. "Your turn." He looked startled for a second, then nodded, handing her the datapad and taking a mirror stance to the one she'd just used. She took the pic,

"Now, both of you." Mission crowed, holding her hand out for it. Sarah sighed, shaking her head, but relinquished it to her and moved to stand next to Carth. He rested an arm around her shoulder, and she rested her hand around his waist. "Oh, very nice. Nice." Mission handed the 'pad back to Carth. "Now, go give 'em hell, Sarah."

"That. And be careful, okay?" Carth breathed. "I want to get all three of us out of here. Lost enough on this run, already." His voice dropped to a whisper on the last sentences, before he spun and strode away.

"You're ninth in the order. It'll give you an idea of the times coming down. Any last questions?"

"No." She answered, straddling the bike. Watch this bitch not even start... Watch it start, explode, and kill us all. Well, at least Carth and Mission are clear... "I got it." It wasn't like the concept was dreadfully involved. Fly alone from one end of a straight course to the other. Avoid the obstacles. Hit the speed boost platforms, and post the best time possible. She settled the goggles, buckled the helmet on, and grasped the grips. They were loose as hell, a ton of play, just as she'd asked for.

She pushed along, in her place in line, fixing her attention on the time board. Twenty three seconds, twenty two. This was going to be short, hardly a long run from... no. Pay attention.

"Your turn. Give 'em hell, girl. Make us proud." Rescue Bastila by beating these pricks at their own damned game.

Calm. Breathe. Focus. The engine idled with a gravelly noise she was certain wasn't standard. Through clarity of thought comes true action, young learner... Ding, red. Ding, yellow. She watched the lights, double clutching on yellow and... Buzz, green... The bike ripped forwards, but she was tucked tightly in her crouch... First, second...hang for a heartbeat...third... slam into fourth and... the accelerator kicked in, and that gravelly noise became a hundred percent more pronounced. It had just better hold together, because... the first platform blurred underneath her. There is no fear. There is simply being, knowing, doing. She dodged obstacles, the throttle full down, her knee missing the edge of one by a hair's width. Another boost platform, dead on, an impossible speed. And it was over, just like that. 20.3 seconds. She was still alive. The bike hadn't exploded. It was alllll good. "Fuck, yeah." She exulted under her breath.

She puttered back along the slow return track, giving Timo and the pit crew a grin and a wave when she heard their cheers. "How's she holding up?" He demanded before she pulled to a complete stop, already leaning over to stare at the gauges. "Shit. She ran hot."

"Yes."

"How'd you pull twenty seconds out of your ass? The times have been fast this season already, I think you broke a track record. Ninth run of the season opener...and a record that's stood for six years, gone?"

"I'm good, and it's fast."

He only nodded, motioning for her to dismount. "Anything I should know?"

"That grindy noise is pretty alarming at high speeds."

"Well," He said, watching the visible shimmer of heat rising from the engine... "With twenty seconds, you probably won't have to run again. That could very well be the season opener, done, right there."

"Isn't that just the way of it? All dressed up, and done in twenty seconds?"

"Something like that. But you really threw down the challenge with that one. Where'd you learn to fly like that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I do mind."

He chuckled. "Not surprised. But hey, you win, we win. Go into the lounge, while we work on her. Just in case."

"Right." She nodded, headed for the lounge where Carth and Mission would be waiting, watching the runs via a monitor. It was more crowded than Sarah had been expecting, and way too many of the people in it just wanted to stare...right at her.

"That was awesome! I mean, awesome!" Mission grinned. "Twenty seconds! Is that even possible?"

"Obviously, I just did it." And I hope I don't have to do it again.

"Congratulations, sister." Carth raised his glass. "Can I get you one?"

"That would be wonderful, thanks. Nothing alcoholic...just something to drink." She was suddenly parched, the adrenaline rush wearing off. He left, and returned with a tall glass, filled with a tart, purple juice. It was just what she needed, and she drank half of it in a few swallows.

"What are the chances that's won it all?" He asked, and she shrugged. Everything logical said that it had, but it certainly didn't feel that way. Let Mission gush and bubble, it wasn't over yet.

"I'll call it done when it's done. Until then, no."

And, for over an hour, it seemed to be done...until it wasn't. "Well, fuck me." She breathed, staring at the screen. No amount of denying it would do any good... 19.55 was faster than 20.3...by a sneeze worth's. She'd have to go again.

She sighed, gave Carth another kiss, gathered up her helmet and strode back. If I only saw Bastila, we could try to take her, but...no. Nowhere in sight. "You heard?" She asked the pit crew without greeting or preamble.

"We did. If you're willing to kill yourself, she's ready to go again. The first round runs are almost finished. Lots of people have scratched out after this, can't say I blame them. Why risk the run with times like these? Do you even have a chance?"

"Yes." She'd been fast, but she hadn't taken stupid risks. Now, she would be forced to. Just a fraction faster, just a hair closer... She remounted the bike, scooting up to the line again. Again, focus. Clarity. That state of being where every second was an eternity. I have to get Bastila back. Whatever it takes. She is...that important. Ding. Green. The gravelly growl of an engine on steroids. A deep breath. Pushing it all away from herself. You are not bound by restrictions, everything is possible. You comprehend, you process, what others do not, cannot. Ding. Yellow. The same fluid double clutch, rising from the seat, and... Buzz. Green. The bike ripped forward as fast as she could punch it through its speeds, her jaw clenched, her head rocked back into the neck protection she wore. Firstsecondthirdplatformfourth, just a litany of ever greater speed. Platform, platform...full throttle... hit it again. The noise screamed along with her, but it didn't matter. She. Was. Going. To. Do. This. Where before she'd missed an obstacle with a hair to spare, she let it graze along her armored legs. And then she was through the finish, scrambling to regain control...to get it stopped in time before she became a smear. She got it spun around, skittering across the floor, but it finally stopped... and when it did, there was no denying the underlying keen in the accelerator. Give me my fucking time! It had to be enough, because there wasn't going to be another run. She'd killed it. It would manage a legal finish...putter up the slow track...in first.

18.59.

Eighteen fifty nine. It was over. Done. She nodded slowly, feeling the first delicate hints of pain. And she'd managed to hurt herself, doing it. Big fucking surprise there. But still..that legal finish. She puttered cautiously back, over the line, back into her pit, killing the engine and holding her breath. It died gracefully, silently, and without an explosion... all she could have asked of it.

"We're done." She said, cautiously swinging a leg over. Her knees screamed in outrage, as did an ankle. "I killed it."

"Shame. But I think you got the job done. The Vulkar pilot can't beat that one. I don't think it can be beat...I watched it, and I'm not sure how you did it."

"I'm good. And it was fast."

"We can build another one. All that mattered is that one of our pilots won. You get the girl, we get the credit. Win win..."

"Win win." She agreed, sitting down. She felt light headed, dizzy, ill and now things throbbed unpleasantly in time with her heartbeat.


	23. Chapter 23

Something had gone wrong with the plan. Bastila didn't know what, but she didn't need the Force to understand anger and embarrassment when she saw it...and she saw it on the faces of her guards. It was supposed to have been easy, they'd rigged the race. They would win the great prize, her, in a glorious show. All just a joke. So here she was, in a force cage, with a neural disruptor around her neck, dressed in...next to nothing...waiting for her new owner to claim her and... Well, the and had been her nightmare for over a week now.

"For fuck's sake!" The voice was outraged, but it set off every response in Bastila's heart and soul. She knew that voice, it haunted her nightmares. "You slimy, lying, cheating little cumbucket!"

There was something intrinsically wrong with one of the greatest force users in the known galaxy using such...earthy...language. That was Revan, and she apparently possessed a toilet mouth vocabulary. What was she doing here? She had to sense the bond she shared with Bastila, even through what had been done to her, had that drawn her out?

Bastila raised her eyes, staring through the luminous 'bars' of the cage. Revan, just bristling with fury and outrage, facing down Bastila's main captor... and what was she wearing? Behind her...Captain Onasi, looking equally put out...his arms folded over his chest.

"I won your race, fair and square. I'm here for my prize!"

Bastila closed her eyes again, biting her lip. No. No. That couldn't be. Revan had won her? That was...terrible, the idea of being owned by that was worse than the idea of being turned over to Malak. But Revan had Onasi with her, that was a bright spot...he could be trusted. Just a week. She can't have done much to him in such a short period of time. They're here to for a rescue. They had to be, the idea that they weren't was just too terrible to contemplate.

She's coming back to herself. Which meant that Bastila had to get loose. Revan couldn't be allowed to remember. It just couldn't happen. If she did, their last chance was gone. And Onasi... he was ripe for this... Revan could twist him just as she had done to Alek; use his despair, use his isolation, feed on his tragedy.

No.

"You cheated." It was a weak rebuttal from her captor, Brejik, Bastila sensed the lie in it. Revan hadn't. There was no need for her to, the Force loved her. "But I'll still give you the purse money...I'll double it."

"The hell I cheated! You're just backing out!" The rest of Revan's response was in some spitting, hissing, malice filled language that Bastila didn't recognize. "I won your race. I broke your record. Give me the woman!"

And she had an amazing ability to work a crowd. Didn't they realize that was what she was doing? Of course not. She was a natural Force user, she wanted something, and she was going to get it. And right now, she wanted a riot, something that the already agitated crowd seemed more than willing to give her.

I have to get out of here.

Revan raised her gaze to Bastila, and the younger woman felt the bond yank hard, then she felt power flow back through it, a rushing tide. Revan got what she wanted, and she wanted Bastila at that moment. Free. All Bastila had to do was use what she'd just been given, focus, an external viewpoint, distance, something to grab onto out of this fog and... The disruptor shorted out.

"Shit!" Brejik shouted, pulling a weapon on...Revan, who appeared to be unarmed. We're going to lose her here, lose her now...

It was difficult to determine who reacted first; Onasi, a large male wookiee, or a crack shot of a young twi'lek, but they all seemed willing to kill and die over Revan...who had chosen to duck into cover. "Sarah, heads up!" Onasi shouted, tossing a blaster back behind that cover. She popped up again, alive, whole, and now armed.

Open, open, open, open... Bastila chanted it in her head, focusing on the cage. She had to be a part of this, she couldn't just let Revan rescue her...or claim her...or whatever the hell this was. The cage dropped, and Bastila was free, tossed into an incipient gang battle.

"Don't you go anywhere!" Onasi bellowed at her, moving on a flanking path parallel to Revan's headstrong assault right up the middle. "Damnit, Sarah!"

Sarah. The name that Revan had been programmed to respond to, to believe was hers. If he was calling her that, there was a chance that the programming was mostly intact, or she was hiding her true identity from him, or he was smarter than to be yelling it in a firefight.

"Too late!" Revan yelled back, "Just kill him!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?"

You're trying to protect her. Bastila knew, but that idea was disturbing. Where was the rest of the crew? It certainly looked like this was Revan, Onasi, and a street gang out for some serious blood.

And Brejik was down, Revan on top of him as he fell. She was moving slowly, almost painfully... and suddenly, Bastila's heart sank. Don't. Don't. Don't. One of the last things she ever wanted to see again was Revan armed with a lightsaber, turning to her. Cold panic washed over her...not again...not again... except this time, there was no convenient disgruntled apprentice in a Interdictor class cruiser to take a cheap shot and save Bastila. She was going to be killed with her own weapon...

"Hey!" She yelled at Bastila, and tossed the hilt in her direction, an easy, arcing pitch. "Catch!"

Even with the warning, Bastila almost fumbled the catch, almost dropped her own weapon... and it was obvious by Revan's less than impressed look that the other woman had caught the bobble. Damn it... she whipped it over her head, igniting it in the same motion, glorying in the echo of both blades cutting through the air. If I just keep going, I don't have to turn around and face her.

Unfortunately, there weren't that many targets, and Bastila stopped, cautiously turning to look behind her. It can't be.

Onasi was leaning close to Revan, almost touching her, concern obvious on the features that Bastila was used to seeing closed with his very special brand of distance and disapproval. He's fallen for Revan.

And Revan met his eyes back, her expression open, the hand going to his shoulder in support, the shake of her head a denial to his worried question.

No, it was worse than that. They were a couple, together. Bastila felt suddenly sick, overwhelmed. Nothing could have prepared her for this, nothing at all. This has just gotten so much more complicated.

"Let's go..." Onasi ordered, standing up and giving Revan a hand up. "So, what'd you do to yourself this time, sister?" He asked with a long suffering air, half concern, half joke. Sister? He called Revan sister? What terribly messed up situation was this? He seemed almost human like this. And Revan... she looked a decade younger than the last time that Bastila had seen her, focused, back on track. Her bond to the Force sang in the air around her, but it was a different song than the last time that Bastila had experienced it. No dark and ominous dirge, but a smoothly soothing peal. It had been described before, but like most things that transcended words, it had to be felt, experienced.

Revan, as she once was, when our armies answered her call. I get to see it. Feel it. No Darth, no Dark Lord of the Sith...but the Supreme Commander of the Republic...

"Stressed my ankle. And beat up my knees. I'm okay, Devid."

Devid? Who? She was obviously referring to Onasi, but that one's given name was Carth. But to call him that would be suicide...the Sith would love to capture him. A fake name, to keep him safe, she could work with that. "Good." He gave Revan a half smile and a slight pat on her shoulder before turning to close the distance with Bastila. "Come on." He said, "Let's get out of here before the Sith arrive to break the fight up."

A fine idea... Bastila needed time to figure this out, wrap her mind around it, and calm to chase away the screaming headache that breaking the neural disruptor had given her. Somehow, she had to make this all work...somehow, although it was obvious that their plans were destroyed, shattered along with the Endar Spire.

I have to get her back to Dantooine, back to the Enclave. They can deal with her there. They can deal with Onasi there. She just had to hold it all together, a little bit farther. And right now, that meant following Onasi out of here, away from the promised Sith response to this.

He nodded, spinning to stalk after Revan's retreat...his path covered by the young twi'lek and the wookiee. Why does it have to be you? Both of you? She should be relieved...Onasi was the finest pilot they still had, and Revan was so precious...but she didn't want to deal with either one of them closely. He had always reeked with an almost paternal disapproval, a doubt that he never quite managed to mask. And she...was Revan.

She doesn't remember.

And how long would that last, faced with, so close to, Bastila? This was supposed to be more cautious than this, more controlled. "Where are we going?" She finally asked, managing to coat the question with something that didn't sound like panic.

"The gang's base." Onasi replied, shooing her ahead of him...making it obvious he'd be happiest with her and Revan together, both in his front view. "We'll be good there, for awhile."

Speak for yourself.

Revan led the way through confusing corridors, moving fast in spite of a fairly obvious limp. At first, they were empty corridors, but as she traveled, there were more people...people quick to smile at her, to cheer her on, to clap her on the back, to pass her a cold one. Bastila was used to everyone around knowing exactly what they were dealing with, people who treated Revan with care. And Revan had responded to that with a puzzled solitude, a frank distance... Bastila had simply assumed that was what she was like, but now she knew better. Revan accepted this companionship with an open smile, rubbing her brow with the cold container, and then wiping it dry with her forearm. But her eyes always returned to Onasi, like an auto reticle returning to center point.

They passed through a guarded bay door, into a large hangar beyond...into more cheers. Louder cheers. More people with great big smiles, happy to press a bottle into even Bastila's hand...even when she tried to scoot away from them...closer to the dubious, yet paternal weight of Onasi trailing them.

"You okay?" He finally asked, his voice low, and she fought back a strangled laugh. It was hard to tell that he'd even noticed her in all of the hubbub. She felt like a peripheral concern, in spite of the fact that they'd apparently run, and won, the race to get her freed. And that was whining and sniveling at its very best.

"I am just fine, Captain Onasi." She stated back, making certain that her identification of him couldn't be heard over the growing noise of Revan being helped up to the top of a couple of packing crates, accepting the chanting, cheering pride of the crowd around her with broad waves and an even broader grin. "Although some less revealing clothes would be appreciated."

"I'll get on that as soon as I can." His eyes coasted over her, but there was little to no interest in them...unlike the gaze he gave Revan. On one hand, Bastila found it comforting, she didn't want his interest. On the other hand, she didn't want him to be eying Revan like he was.

It's not fair. Pain grew in her heart, he deserved better, he deserved more. He deserved to not be torn apart, again.

"That's our cubby." He stated, motioning to a pile of packing crates, a tarp half assedly tossed over a makeshift 'doorway' in them. "I'm going to go rescue Sarah, and see what she's gone and done to herself. I'll be right there."

The cubby was simply a small room formed by crates, with a sagging, sad mattress tossed on the bare, metal floor. Yup, they were really living the high life here, indeed. But at least it was out of view of the gang, somewhat private, distanced from the increasing sound of a party just getting started. She perched awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, which promptly sank all of the way to the floor. Exasperated, she chose to sit in the corner, instead, running her fingertips along the hilt of her lightsaber. It was back. Revan had returned it.

She heard Onasi's steps, heavier, slightly staggering, and he appeared, carrying a grinning Revan in his arms. She had a beer in one of her hands, the other arm was slung behind his shoulders. "I'm fine." She chuckled, "Really, Devid."

"And that's why you're limping." He admonished, parking her almost gracefully on the mattress. "Let me see."

"Fine." She grumbled, sliding out of her boots and armored leggings without a second's pause. Bastila flinched, there was nothing shy or dubious in her manner, because...

No...

"Crap, Sarah. You know you're supposed to avoid the obstacles... right?" Her pale skin was riddled with rising, blood colored welts, flowing backwards from her knees, along her thighs.

"Not when you're trying to kill that kind of time." She shrugged. "It's not my knees that bother the worst. It's the ankle, hurts a hell of a lot worse then it ought to."

Revan shattered her right ankle in the War. Neither she nor Alek were particularly adept healers, it never set correctly. Bastila could feel the injury's low throb, irritated now, and she shooed Onasi to the side, taking Revan's foot in her hand. The swelling was visible, the skin graying to a pale violet. "I'll do what I can." She said, and cursed internally when Onasi gave her a thankful look in return.

What the...? She felt the ankle, and a litany of other bodily insults when she opened up to her bond mate's physical status. "What have you done to yourself, Sarah?" She asked, unaware for a moment that she had echoed Onasi's earlier question almost verbatim. "This is more than grazing a couple of obstacles."

Onasi's eyes went dark, his brows lowered. "Our escape pod made an extraordinarily bad landing." He said, guilt dripping from the syllables. "She suffered a head injury."

Bastila blinked, meeting Revan's eyes against her better instincts. They were wide, deep gray, stern and calm, but there was a hint of mischief in them. "You raced that race after a head injury?" Bastila spluttered in horror. You slept with Captain Onasi, after a head injury? Well, maybe that last one made a little more sense, it would take a special brand of crazy for that.

"Yeah. Damn stupid, I know." That grin was startling. Revan shouldn't be able to manage it, self deprecating, wicked, so very human. "Anything to get you back."

Wha?

Even Onasi seemed vaguely off balanced by that, his eyes moving between their faces. There was just a tinge of something behind his features, and it took Bastila a long moment to label it as jealousy. He thought that? What did they know? What did they think they knew?

She closed her eyes and focused. Healing Revan had always come easily, more easily than healing herself. In spite of the residual effects from the head injury, and all of the small insults from the race, Revan felt fine. Good. Better than she ever had in Bastila's care, before. "That should help get you back to your own party." She smiled, feeling the injury repair as well as it was ever going to. "Wouldn't want you to miss out, although I do suggest putting your pants back on, first." Or, better yet, exchange them for looser pants. No wonder Onasi was panting...

Revan merely smiled, saluting Bastila with her bottle.


	24. Chapter 24

"Oh, my head." Carth murmured, barely audible even to himself. Sarah was blatantly using him as a pillow and a heater, tucked in along his side, not a centimeter of clearance between them. She was also snoring in little, wheezy snorts, face tucked up in his chest...and he fought back laughter. His head hurt too much to laugh. He'd wake her up if he laughed, and then he'd have to deal with her hangover as well. Plus, he was certain he'd been snoring as well, and he was certain his put hers to shame.

"You'll live." Ah, yes. Bastila. He opened an eye to stare at her and waited for the lecture. How many sins, how many crimes, had he committed? Fraternization? Check. He outranked Sarah by leaps and bounds. Intoxication? Check. He didn't really remember last night, he'd started off with beers, but was fairly certain he'd strayed into deeper waters somewhere along the way. But the hangover was undeniable proof of his misbehavior. Allowing/ordering a subordinate soldier to risk her life by racing a prototype death machine just days after she'd suffered a severe concussion? Check. Losing the Spire had not been his fault, he could accept that. And if he accepted that, he had to accept that losing her crew was also not his fault. His responsibility, yes, but not his fault. Bastila had given the orders that brought him here. There was no way that a single Hammerhead could have come out on top of that battle...no matter how good her pilot was. But Bastila had the command style of an ensign straight out of the Academy, afraid to admit mistakes, terrified to show chinks, full of blowhard arrogance painted over a scared little girl. He didn't know much, but he knew she was in over her head, and if she'd just admit it, he could help. But no, she was the Jedi. He was just...the guy who drove. To hell with the fact he had almost as many years in uniform as she'd been alive, that was all just useless because he wasn't a force user.

"So. You and her?" And she wasn't going to beat around the bush, either. No play nice with Carth, even if he had just helped rescue her, and had the worst hangover he'd had in years. "You know she has issues?"

Bastila shifted from her side of the mattress, resting a hand on the messy black head curled into him, a protective, gentle motion, and he cringed. That was the worst lecture possible, it hit all of those things he'd been trying to hide from himself. It was one thing to be indulging in fraternization, he could survive the censure if that came to light. His admiral would probably kiss the ground upon hearing it. But to be fraternizing with a woman possibly mentally and physically unable to give him consent, that disturbed him. But if she was that badly off, what in the hell was she doing here? If she was fit for duty...then she should damned well be fit for, well, that. "Her memory is spotty at best, yes."

"I have a strange question for you."

"Shoot." He prodded, closing his eyes and waiting, hiding his eyes under the forearm not wrapped around Sarah.

"Is it good? I mean, are the pair of you good together? I know it's not been long, but..."

Was it good? Too good, sometimes, like in this moment. He felt contented. Companionable. Cared about. Certainly, there was little romance here, but it had been years since he'd felt this whole, this real. He was hung over, he hadn't seen a refresher in three days, and he'd slept on a mattress on a floor. His drunken girlfriend was snoring, and coming perilously close to sleeping with her face in his armpit. He was also in bed with a painfully young Jedi padawan...who'd managed to find Sarah's newer shirt at some point in time and put it on, but he was pretty certain he'd done nothing untoward with her. All in all, he felt stupidly good. "Yeah. He breathed, "I think we're pretty damned good together. Why, is there something else I should know? She's not a young'un."

"No. She's not. How old are you?"

"Thirty eight. She's got to be somewhere around that...?"

Bastila snorted, sitting up. "She's thirty eight. What did she tell you?"

"From what I can get out of her, she was with your strike team to board Revan's flag. She was badly wounded, spent a long time in the hospital. I assume she was put on the Spire so that you could keep an eye on her, although this was a dangerous mission to have brought her along on. I do see how good she is, but..."

"I assure you, Captain Onasi, that her presence on your ship was an imperative. She was integral to the mission."

He growled in disgust, and Sarah shifted irritably at the sound. The mission, the one he'd never understood, but knew it was a failure of utmost proportions. The Spire was still falling out of the sky...in pieces. "What now?" He asked, taking a deep breath. They'd gotten Bastila back, now they had to get the hell off of Taris, all...five of them. And he hated to admit to Bastila that they'd adopted a couple of hangers on in just a week.

"We must leave Taris. This can still be salvaged, Captain."

He eyed her warily...salvaged? They'd lost two hundred in crew, either dead or incommunicado, on this shithole, and that was with running with a pared down crew for the Spire. "One of these days..."

"Maybe." She sighed as if he'd finished. "Perhaps one of these days the Council will indeed share the mission statement with you, Captain. I, however, cannot, and for that, I am sorry."

Of course not. "Hey, sister." He sighed, shifting the boneless heap of flesh adorning his side. Like it or not, they still had things to get done. "Time to share the wonder of your undoubtedly hungover presence with us."

"Fuck you." She responded sleepily, almost pleasantly, squinting and blinking up his chest at him. "You need to shave...your sexy whatever the hell you call it is fuzzing all together."

He regarded her patiently, trying to determine if she was still as drunk as she sounded. When had she stopped drinking last night? Was it before he had, or after? Damned if he could remember...he didn't remember getting here at all. "I know I need to shave. And bathe. And launder my clothes." He was well aware he was a disaster, but at least the usually spotless and prim Bastila was worse off than he was. "Are you still drunk?"

"No."

"Could have fooled me." He finally managed to free his arm from underneath her, cautiously sitting. He was definitely getting too damned old for this... when he had been younger, it would take months on the line to make him feel like this, not a single night of drinking. "Feeling better, or worse?"

"Stiff." She sighed, watching him from between the strands of loose hair hanging in her face. "Thirsty. I'm okay, though." She stood, stretching luxuriously, pulling the already tight fabric of her bike gear taut over her body. He blinked in abject stupidity, knowing that Bastila was watching him, but he just couldn't tear his eyes away from the display. "Okay." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "One objective down, onto the next."

"Off of Taris." Bastila agreed evenly. "Before..." Her eyes glanced upwards, and Sarah only nodded in answer.

"Before Malak loses patience. Which he will. His inability to catch Bastila will eventually force his hand."

"And he'll bomb Taris the same as he did Telos." Oh, this was a worse horror than that had been...he hadn't seen Telos coming. There had been no time to respond, to react. Those on the world hadn't known it was going to happen. He was going to die in the exact same way that his wife had, that his son had...that his whole world had...just a few years later and a lot farther down the Hydian Way. It was like a full circle, beginning feeding right into ending...fitting in a sick way.

"Carth..." Sarah's voice was deep with warning and concern. "I'm not dead until I'm cold and stiff. And maybe not even then. That goes for you, as well." Her palm on the side of his face was steel, turning his gaze to her eyes. "This is not done." She breathed, stroking his forelock with her other hand. "Not over."

The sheer mountain of confidence and resolve that she hit him with was almost palpable, how could he have doubted? Faltered? When she was right there standing beside him? "Of course not." He murmured, clambering to his feet and looking down at her. He was a fool to doubt her.

"Ahem." Bastila broke the spell with a timely clearing of her throat. "So, we're in agreement. We don't have much time and we do what we must. For ourselves. For the Republic."

Right. Do what he had to do, to make certain another woman he cared about didn't die in a terrible orbital bombardment from the same fleet, the same command staff, that had bombed Telos into a wasteland. He hadn't been able to save Morgana, but that was past. Sarah wasn't. "Absolutely." He agreed firmly, feeling his shattered nerves click back into place. "We need a ship, any ship. I can pilot a bucket if it comes down to that."

"We'll need the fleet codes to get past the blockade far enough to run. The worse the ship we get, the more of a running start we'll need." Sarah picked at one of her fingernails, deep in thought. "It'll be tough."

"Get me a ship. I'm..." Trying too damn hard for his own good. But what did she know? He'd lost the only ship she'd ever seen him pilot...

"The best pilot in the Republic Fleet." It was hardly the sort of support he was expecting from Bastila, of all people. Maybe all of this had knocked some of the jumpy arrogance off of her. "That's why you're on this mission."

Right. Well, it sounded good, at least. "Let's get a move on." He sighed, doing his best to ignore how grungy he was. He'd been there before, it was nothing new, and in the end, it all washed off. "I'll buy you girls breakfast. Or lunch. Or whatever it is." He chuckled, shrugging into his jacket.

"And some clothes." Sarah interjected, and he gazed down at her. She looked damn good, edging towards perfect, in what she was wearing...he was not fool enough to pay to change that... "For Bastila, mister eyeballs. I can make do with this, but all she's going to do is attract more attention. The wrong sort of attention."

"Mister eyeballs, eh? I don't think I've ever been called that one before, sister." He rested a hand on her shoulder, thoughtful. He'd been in combat before, done his fair share of ground pounding before the Republic had realized his true calling was piloting. He'd been in some bad spots, the War had been one after another. But somehow, this was different...and her presence was like a lens, focusing his anxiety into a steely determination. "Food, Sarah. Bastila." He'd like to see Sarah lose the brittle edge of being pushed too far on not enough. And he doubted if Bastila had eaten much the past week, either. He had credits in his pocket, and save the galaxy missions went over best on a full stomach. As if in agreement, his own growled audibly.


	25. Chapter 25

Carth looked like gently warmed over hell, and Sarah felt vaguely guilty at having kept him out past his bedtime. Although she had to admit that his unshaven and vaguely haggard appearance wore him well, he'd lost a bit of that stiff shine that screamed military. A little less pinned down, a little less clean cut. He was relaxed in his chair, one foot propped up on his knee, either ignoring or oblivious to the stares he was the focus of. Watching him, she guessed oblivious...he was content to nurse his hangover behind closed eyes while he waited for caf and food. "What?" He demanded without opening his eyes, but the question was obviously directed at her and not the silent Bastila.

"How's it feel to be the guy in the cantina that everybody else wants to be?"

He pried open an eye to stare at her, "What are you talking about, Sarah?"

"You. The guy with the wife and the girlfriend she won for you by shattering the Taris swoop race record. All we need is Mission, and your harem is complete."

"That is so not even funny." He sighed, folding his arms over his chest and tucking his chin into his throat. "I am definitely a one girl kind of guy. Preferably one within ten years of my own age. No, scratch that. Required to bewithin ten years of my own age...so that cuts out both Bastila and Mission. Especially Mission." He did an exquisite full body shudder complete with sound effects.

"Mission?" Bastila asked cautiously, and Sarah nodded.

"Twi'lek teenager. I believe she's adopted us, and we're taking her with us." She didn't expect a complaint from Carth, he was the sort who would never consider not bringing Mission off of Taris. "And the wookiee."

"And our own crew?"

"No sign of any of them. It...doesn't look good..." She silenced, feeling the man come up behind her. Carth came out of his loll, his face suddenly all business, not hiding the hand resting on his blaster butt. No friend then...

"Sarah and Devid. How convenient...I was going to come looking for you, but I see I don't have to." The voice was deep, raspy, without flourish and vaguely familiar.

Ah, well, Sarah was certain that there were more worrisome things looking for her than a Mandalorian, but she could be wrong. "Canderous, was it?" It was sad and disturbing that he remembered their names, she needed to do the same. And with her memory, that was a harsh need.

"Yes. I hear congratulations are in order."

And this man was no man for pleasantries. She craned her neck to stare up at him dubiously, letting her expression show those doubts. "Cut to the chase, I'm growing old here."

He snorted, and gave her a pretty obvious 'aren't you cute?' glance. She might be pushing forty, but he had longer than that in the field, grizzled, scarred, graying, with the weight of age and experience wrapped around him. And he was still living, that told her all she needed to know. Not just a Mandalorian, but a good Mandalorian at that. "I need to speak with you...both...all...in one of the back rooms. It's in your best interest. All of our best interests, I think."

"Sure." She sighed, standing and extending a hand towards Carth. "I'll hear you out." She sensed that Carth was less willing, but he was a veteran. Those prejudices wouldn't ever go away, completely. They might fade, retreat, but the fact remained...he'd fought Mandalorians to protect the Republic from their invasion. If the Mandalorians had not attacked, then Revan and her followers would have never come to the forefront...and would have never fallen. Telos would have remained untouched. She almost expected lip from Carth, he was hung over and scared, but he merely accepted her hand in silence.

Canderous led them to the back of the cantina, into one of the smaller pazaak salons, waving them towards the empty table. "Have a seat. Looks like you two put in some celebrating. Good job, by the way."

"Mandalorian giving me chit chat and idle talk..." Sarah silenced when an older Twi'lek woman came in with their breakfasts, setting them down on the pazaak felt in front of them. "Ah, gotcha." She shrugged. "What's the real deal?"

Canderous scratched at his stubble on his throat for a long moment, obviously making certain that the waitress was gone. "Fine. The real deal. I see in front of me, three Republic citizens. One of them... Captain Carth Onasi."

Carth stared at his breakfast with a little less enthusiasm than he'd just had, before shrugging it off and beginning to eat, obviously content to let Sarah do the talking for him. "I'm going to guess that you are the command crew from that Hammerhead falling in pieces from the sky, and that you want the fuck off of Taris...asap."

"Go on." Not denying it was tantamount to admitting it, but something had to give, and soon. He was on the right track, even if he had some of the details wrong.

"You've got one of the best pilots in the business with you, good enough to get this done. I have a few things that may get this all to fit together... I know where there's an astromech with the ability to get the main Sith base doors open...and any door in the place as well. I know where the fastest ship on Taris is, and I can get us there to...liberate her...with your help, and your pilot to run the blockade."

"And you get off of Taris."

"Malak isn't known for his patience or his reasonable nature. Even if I turned the three of you in, chances are it would turn out badly for me. The best course of action seems to be this: get the fleet codes, get the fastest ship on Taris, and make a run for it. After we're away, and someplace safe, we sell the ship, split the cash, and go about our separate lives."

"Works for us." Sarah stated into the pause, cutting off Bastila before she even got started. No. The Mandalorian would not respect her, she felt jittery and uncertain... Sarah needed to put her in her place, be strong.

"You can't just..." Bastila spluttered, rising to her feet, and Sarah locked eyes with her. Shut up and sit the hell down. Now.

Amazingly, it worked, the young Jedi went dead silent, pale, and dropped back into her seat. "Right then." Canderous stated, his gaze measuring, "Fleet codes. And it can't be me to go get them, they know me too well around here. And it shouldn't be flyboy, if I can recognize him, they will."

And it shouldn't be Bastila, for the same reasons. Left her few options, and they all started with Mission. Which wasn't a bad idea on second thought. "I'll take Mission." That was a dispute rising in Carth's eyes, and she held out a hand. "Unless you want me going alone?" That effectively silenced him as well, and Sarah nodded, tilting her head to Canderous. "Tell me where the astromech is, and we'll take this part from here."

"It's at the droid store in the Upper City. Droids by Janice. Just tell her I sent you for it. And you'll probably need to pay her, but..." He spread his hands apart, "Shouldn't be an issue for you."


	26. Chapter 26

"You're taking Mission on this...mission?" Carth demanded, narrowing his eyes in thought. "She's a little young."

"She handled getting the accelerator back well. She slices better than I do. She's small. She's fast. She's sneaky. And she's probably not on any database for a facial recognition hit... and if we're taking her with us, it's time she earned her passage." She understood his reservations, but this was real. If Mission was the best/only one for it, then she'd take Mission. "I don't want to have to rescue you. Or Bastila, again."

"And I'd prefer to not have to rescue you, ever." He punctuated the statement with a finger into her shoulder, just short of painful.

"I can't make that promise." She muttered, and he shook his head. "And you've done it once already."

"Not comfortable with the idea of sending you into a Sith base. Not comfortable with the idea of sending Mission with you into a Sith base. Sarah..." He plowed on, ignoring the statement as if she'd never spoken it. She already owed him her life. And Bastila owed him... how could Sarah have rescued a woman she didn't remember in the first place? Mission owed both of them, equally. The only one who didn't owe...was Carth.

"Tell me my other options." There weren't any. She knew that, he knew that.

"There aren't any." He finally admitted, defeated, his shoulders bowing under the weight of his thoughts. She wished she could something, anything, to ease his very valid doubts. "Carth..."

"Don't you Carth me." He snapped, pulling her into his arms. He was big, solid, sturdy, comforting, safe. "Sarah. Please."

"We're out of time." There was no way in hell she wasn't going to take every single chance she had, it was time to risk everything now. The thought of just sitting around waiting for another Telos to come raining down on her head...on his head...no. She couldn't handle it.

"I know." He whispered. "I know. Just please, be careful...for me."

"Of course." She lied. To get him what he wanted, what he deserved, required her to be at her best. And that threw careful right out of the equation, she was going to be razor edged and bold...for him. It was the only way he was going to survive this. It was the only way that any of them were going to survive this. It would help if Bastila would stop with that measuring, narrow eyed stare... "You have a better idea?"

"No, Sarah, I do not." The younger woman finally stated after a long and thoughtful pause. What are you thinking? Sarah wondered, but only got an inscrutable gaze in return. Well, that one was the Jedi...Sarah was not.

"I'm going to go find Mission. You two stay put." Sarah sighed, shaking her head. It was hard to avoid Carth's eyes, she felt them firmly planted on her, but she had to. There was too much of a chance he might actually sway her...and she couldn't allow that.

"Good luck." He offered it up softly, and she bit her lip to remind herself to keep from looking at him.

"Thanks. Bastila." The name fell with a definitive note of command that surprised the hell out of her.

"Yes...Sarah?" Bastila's voice was still distant, still cautious. Sarah wished she could remember exactly what their relationship had been, what it was supposed to be now. The younger woman stood off to the side, her arms folded over her ample chest, her dark gray eyes never leaving Sarah's face. It was vaguely disconcerting, but Sarah was too proud to let her know that, if possible.

"Take care of him for me."

"I will. I promise you, Sarah. I will take care of Captain Onasi for you, until you return to do it yourself." It fell with a solid, binding weight and Sarah nodded. "Now, go do what you have to."

Time to go get this done. She breathed out, striding away from the pair... feeling their eyes focused on her, Carth's brown ones, Bastila's gray ones. She felt the swagger in her own step, the sway of her hips, the purpose in every inch of her body. By the time she'd hit the door out of the cantina, she was focused, cold, determined.

"Mission, you're with me." Sarah stated in that odd tone that seemed to be imminently agreeable to everybody it was unleashed upon. If it worked, then she would use it. It also seemed to do the trick on Mission, who nodded immediately, rising to her feet and checking her weapons. The Beks hideout was still quiet, most of the residents trying to recuperate from the previous night's party. Mission had been slouched in a corner, reading... Sarah's new datapad. Sarah made a mental note to not put anything interesting in it, since privacy seemed to be an issue with this one.

"Sure. What are we doing? And where's everybody else?"

"We're on our own for this one. And our first step is to go upside and pick up a droid. Do you know how to get upside without playing dodge the Sith?" Sarah would bet that she did...

"Of course." The young twi'lek wrinkled her nose at the idea that she might not know a way. "There's no way to completely lock down a place like this, Sarah. Come on, I'll show you."

It was not an easy path, and Sarah was left wondering how Mission could manage to get Zaalbar through this, and thankful that the racing gear she still wore helped her slide through some pretty tight places. The first left her wondering if this was some sort of joke or test, and the second merely reminded her she was about to pop up in the Upper City wearing stuff that left nothing...whatsoever...to the onlookers' imaginations. Both could be at least indirectly blamed on Mission, and Sarah sighed. "So, we're going to buy a droid?" The twi'lek asked, sliding sideways down a pipe access-way. "Careful, it's kind of tight here."

"Well," Sarah sighed, sucking in her belly and wriggling through. "That's the first thing we're doing today."

"And the second thing we're doing today?"

"Breaking into the Sith base."

Mission laughed outright, but it petered out when Sarah didn't so much as smile in response. "You're serious? Are you crazy? Where's Devid?"

"You think you could fit him down this?" If there were places down this miserable access-way where Sarah had to hold her arms over her head so that she could slide through, there was no way in hell, ever, that Carth could pass through here. He was not a small man, by any stretch of the imagination.

"No. He's... pretty big. Not like fat big. Just...big. Upper City big."

Well fed and healthy big, his homeworld had been a prosperous, lush planet before Malak's fleet had bombed it into ruins. "Uh huh." Sarah muttered,wondering mildly if Mission ever just took pause for a breath. For a thought. For a moment to just stop talking.

"But you...you're not Upper City big. You're like us."

Again, Sarah sighed. So many ways to go with that, the first was insult. The second was a pretty pointed statement that Mission, at least, was not going to stay 'like us' for much longer. It was a delusion, full blown puberty was panting at her heels. She'd be much more like Bastila than Sarah in another couple of years... "Uh huh." She repeated, wondering how many of them it would take before Mission caught on.

"Does he know what you've got planned?" Doubt colored Mission's words, and she glanced over at Sarah. "I mean, he loves you. He wouldn't just let you go do this, right? He cares."

He does, indeed. "It's got to be done, Mission." For him. For Sarah. For Bastila, and yes...for Mission. She was clueless, but that changed nothing.

"No! It doesn't! It's stupid. It's suicide! I won't..."

I can't let you do this, Mission. I won't let you back out of this. I won't. You have got to do this. Sarah glared at her, putting every ounce of willpower and resolve behind the stare. Why she thought that would work, why it didn't even really compute that it might not, she wasn't sure. All she knew was it would, and it had to be done.

Mission jumped like she'd been slapped, her wide, dark eyes jumping to Sarah's face. "I..."

Can do this. And you will.

"I can do this. I will do this." Mission sounded hesitant, uncertain, before she shook her head violently. "I mean, yeah. It can be done, sure."

"Of course it can be. And we'll do it." Sarah repeated with a long, slow breath.

That was dirty. That was wrong. But it had to be done, it's in her best interest as well. Carth's. That makes it valid.


	27. Chapter 27

Mission was blessedly, sulkily silent for the rest of the trip, dropping into step behind Sarah once they'd appeared in the Upper City. It was one thing to listen to her when things were good, but Sarah needed focus, her mind free of distractions. Getting the droid was not a problem, the anxious Twi'lek at the shop was more than happy to take Canderous's name and Sarah's money as good. That gained Sarah a T-3 unit to go along with her agitated young Twi'lek companion.

"Are you certain you won't think about this, again?" Mission hissed when they stepped back out onto the streets of the Upper City, Sarah's attention planted firmly across the way...where all of the Sith seemed to be coming from, and going to.

"I'm certain. You'll be fine." Why she thought that, truly, Sarah couldn't say. Carth made it obvious exactly what he considered Mission to be, and not be. Too young, just a child, something for him to protect, not an adult, not a true part of this, not a team member. Logically, Sarah saw it, but there was something in her that rejected it out of hand. When I was her age, I was...

And as quickly as it had been there, teasingly on the tip of her brain, ready to form, ready to be born, to make sense out of the senseless, it was gone. Sarah fought down the scream of sheer frustration that boiled out of her gut...so damned close. She had almost had it!

"Whoa! Enough with the killer glare, okay? Sorry I asked." Mission grumbled, waving her hands in surrender. "What are we waiting for?"

Yes, exactly what are we waiting for? The question formed, but Sarah remained stubbornly in place, watching the sallyport that led into the Sith enclave. Too early. Not time...not time for the main shift patrol...

"We've got to wait for the main patrols to start their shift. It'll give us the least amount of personnel in the base."

"Ah, that makes sense. How do you know that kind of stuff? I mean... you and Devid, the swoop race, and now... the Jedi..." Mission looked thoughtful, then suspicious. "You aren't what you told us you were, are you?"

Sarah bit her lip, her gaze still on the corridor. Now was not the time to have to coddle Mission, she didn't have the time for this. "Listen to me very carefully, Mission." She breathed, her tone perfectly even, deadly calm. "I trusted you enough to bring you to this. Put my life, and the lives of the only people I have in existence...in your hands. Treated you exactly like an adult with that." And that's what Mission craved...so Sarah would give it to her, use it against her. "Everyone else around us figured it out a long time ago. Gadon knows."

Sarah tore her gaze from the sallyport, from counting patrols, and stared at the young Twi'lek. "So, what is it, Mission. You with me for this one, or not?"

Not is not an option. Don't make me... Make me what, exactly? Another one of those threads that popped up when she was focused, stressed...always in the times when she didn't have the luxury to try to follow them. Silence followed, and Sarah sighed. It was time to play dirty, then...

"Or is Devid right? Are you too young for this?"

"I'm not!" Mission wailed, and Sarah merely nodded, returning her stare to the opening.

"That's good, then." She breathed, resting a hand on her hidden weapon. "Because it's time to go... Teethree."

The droid hunkered beside her hummed for a moment, then replied with a strident cascade of whoops and beeps. "Good." Sarah chuckled, resting her palm on its upper casing. At least the droid was in... "I'm coming." Mission muttered, pushing her lekku back and giving Sarah a stubborn, nearly sulky, stare. "This had better be worth it."

It's your only chance to live. It's Zaalbar's only chance. Everyone here is doomed, they just don't realize it, yet.

"Uh huh." Sarah replied, agreeably.

Sarah strode through the sallyport, into the wide open space beyond. There were fewer people here, this close to the Sith base, but it wasn't empty enough to make her stand out any more than necessary. Mission was another story, but Sarah made certain to walk boldly, possessively, in front of her. She doubted if the Twi'lek even realized what she was doing, even sensed the palpable aura of ownership that preceded her. Rather than trying to blend, to hug the sides, she simply walked to the panel... "Do your shit, Teethree." She muttered, and the droid cozied up to the wall, linked in, and a split moment later, the door opened. It was time to knock heads and beat shit up...

Sarah hit the hallway at a near run, feeling that focus pop into place again. Without Carth to hold her leash, she could just let it happen... Mission wasn't strong enough, confident enough to try to sway her. She didn't care enough about how the teenager viewed her to change her gut reactions... the first shot took the twi'lek receptionist out before that one got even a syllable out.

Had her foot over the alarm. Now, where are we going?

"Get me into that..." Sarah pointed with her chin towards the receptionist's display, pushing the limp body out of the way to give Mission an easier time of it. "Tell me where the secured database is."

Down, of course.

Of course...but she'd like a few more details. "Teethree. Lock those doors behind us."

"Booooowheep."

Exactly.

"It's down. There's an elevator in the back of the complex... I've disabled the interior alarms..."

"Good job." And this was why it needed to be Mission. And Sarah would repay the debt, by saving her at the end of this. But now... she moved into the corridors, afraid of losing impetus. They couldn't stay for long, but hopefully she could sweeten the trip by finding some better weaponry, at least. One standard Republic issue blaster was simply not to her tastes, it just felt wrong. What she needed was a blade...no, two blades. And she was certain this place had an armory just chock full of anything she'd need, or want.

Not quite.

Not now. Sarah growled, powering down the hallway, the teenager and the droid trailing after her.

The armory. Sarah grinned, glancing back at Mission. "Go for it, Mission. Whatever you want, and can carry." She breathed, throwing open metal cabinet doors. There. Better blasters. Vibroblades that sat in her hand with a friendly weight and growled a promising hum. Grenades. They had this.

And it definitely seemed like through most of the place. Even the Sith governor in the database room had not been her equal...in fact, he'd been a fool...choosing to come after her with blades as well. The fight had been a vicious joy, a dance that underscored what she was called to do...blade in each hand, one on one. He held on for a long time, meeting blow with blow, whetting her appetite, getting her blood and rage flowing unchecked. Her heart pounded in her head, her breaths in her chest...it was a brilliantly focused reality, much like sex with Carth had been. And where that gave her release and joy, reversing her cut, moving beneath the governor's guard, and slicing his throat back to his spine brought nearly the same thrill.

"Mission...the codes." She breathed, staring down at the still form crumpled on the flooring plates.

"Got 'em."

"Great. Let's get the hell out of here...while we still can." She pressed the button on the elevator, and nothing happened.

"What?!" Mission stared at her out of wide, suddenly terrified eyes, and Sarah sighed in disgust.

"Whoooboop?" The droid inquired and she shrugged, prying off the faceplate of the panel with her duty knife and peering in. Locked out. No, locked in. Trapped. Caught like an animal. That shouldn't evoke the indulgent amusement that it did. It should bother her. It should scare her. It should have her trying to wire the droid into the elevator, immediately. For it to have locked itself down after Mission had disabled the security systems...

"Mission. Send Devid the codes, now."

"But. But. How?" But. But. How? The answer to sending Carth the codes was easy, with as much disabling as they'd done to get down here, the droid could send it right to the datapad he was carrying. No jamming, nothing to block or intercept the signal. The bigger but, but, how was the elevator...

"Droid." She muttered, pulling the primary circuit plate out and letting it hang by its wires. "Contact his datapad. Send the codes. It's..." Imperative that Carth and Bastila got that information. Ah, the secondary board...exactly as it should be. Behind that should be...

"Okay." This time, Sarah didn't blame her for the desperate tone. "Sending it now... He should have it."

Good. No matter what happened then, this was a success. Even without Sarah, without Mission, they could still pull this off.

"Sarah?" His voice, intensely concerned, amazingly sexy, came out of the droid, and she took a deep sigh. "What's going on?"

"Run into a little hiccup." She found the tertiary panel, sunk deeply into the inner workings of the elevator. "It's a just in case thing, Devid. We're still on schedule." She pulled the panel out, flipping it over. Yup. Just right where it should be. She rubbed the tiny thumbnail screen with a finger, waiting for it to come to life.

Command override code: It read, blinked, and the words vanished, leaving just a row of underscores. Eleven of them, under a squintingly tiny alphanumeric pad.

"What? No, no, no...you not just tell me that, Sarah!" He didn't bother to hide any of the rising panic in his voice. "Where are you?"

"Mission, do you have a pinpoint stylus on you?"

"I do." She proved it by passing it to Sarah, moving close to watch. "Wait, there's an override in these things?"

"Absolutely." Sarah took a deep breath, studied the pad, and hit the first eleven letters and numbers that exploded into her mind, the same string she had used to yank control of the Sith armor with. It was a leap of faith, a trust in those memories she knew she had...but didn't.

Command override accepted.

Mission crowed in triumph, slapping her on the back, and the doors to the elevator cycled open. "Hiccup dealt with, Devid. We're on our way back."

"I'll...uh...talk to you when you get back."


	28. Chapter 28

"Stop staring at me." Carth grumbled, pacing. That very short communication had not sounded good at all. It was a stupid, stupid, stupid idea to have sent Sarah and Mission in there, alone. And all Bastila did was stare at him, like she was trying to peel his skin away and look deeply within him, into his most private corners. Damned Jedi...

"She'll be fine, Captain. This is what she does." Bastila replied, serenely. "I realize you care for her, but she's an expert. I no more worry about her than I'd worry about you piloting..."

"I crashed my last ship." He tersely replied, raking his fingers though his forelock. "A crew of three hundred..."

"You did your best."

"And I'm sure she's doing her best, as well." He growled, turning his back on Bastila. Doing one's best didn't always end with success. Being an expert didn't always end with success. There was a chance that the last words he was ever going to hear from Sarah were those distant, sharply businesslike ones...the ones where she called him a name that wasn't even his. "Hopefully, her best is better than my best."

There was a dark, smoky chuckle from behind him and he spun. Sarah stood there, alive, intact, a quite pleased with herself smirk on her features. "I don't know." She breathed, moving close to him. She smelled of blood, combat, sweat...but it was all good. She was there. "I happen to find your best quite admirable, my dear." She rested a hand on his chest, under his open jacket, and all he could do was stare at her, thankful for her presence. She was walking. Talking. Breathing. Finally he managed to rest his hand over hers, pressing her palm over his heartbeat.

"Sarah."

"It's all good." She murmured, grabbing his shirt in her hand, giving it a big squeeze, and releasing it. "Got the codes. Brought the teenager and the droid back in one piece."

And yourself. What in the hell was wrong with him? He was too damned old to fall head over heels like this. It was something teenaged boys, ramped up on testosterone driven lust, gave into. It was a ride he couldn't seem to get off of...and wasn't even sure he wanted to. But he was tired...of being tired. Of growing old. Of being sad, alone. Of being so damned dependable. Where had that ever gotten him? Widowed, alone and desperate... adrift at the time in his life when he'd thought he'd be rooted and settled down. By now, he was supposed to be looking at the end of his flying career, looking forward to things long gone. He'd given up living in exchange for existing.

"You're back." It was possibly one of the stupidest statements he'd ever made in his life, and he had some brilliant moments in his past. Of course she was back. She was touching him.

"Of course I'm back." She gazed at him out of storm gray eyes, her fingers tangling up in his jacket. "Now kiss me, and we'll get started with the next part of this."

He was happy to oblige with her pointed demand, even if it did cause Bastila's stare to deepen. But he was getting tired of caring about that as well, so relieved to wrap his arms around Sarah, take her lips beneath his, and ignore the world for a moment.

"Get a room, you two." Mission chuckled, and he glanced at her as she trailed Sarah back into the Beks' base. She looked a little less bold than usual, a little...quiet, but overall, she looked okay. It was pretty obvious that Sarah had fronted the attack, but there was a concern in Mission's eyes he wasn't used to seeing.

"What's up?" He asked warily. "It got rough, right?"

"Yeah." Mission almost sounded sulky, or scolded...or both. But Carth knew that Sarah would run a tight mission, and he'd seen what happened when she threw in. She could get cold, unyielding. And if things had gone south... "But it's okay. She knows what she's doing. Guess that's why you two sent her. I guess...I just never thought I'd see someone pull that off. And I feel stupid..."

"We lied to you, Mission." Sarah stated firmly, and Carth cringed. It hadn't seemed like that large a lie...at the beginning. And most people had seen through it after awhile.

"Yeah, but apparently you two didn't lie that well. Why would you lie to me? What's going on?"

Carth flinched, and then flinched again when Zaalbar came over, standing over Mission silently. "My name is not Devid." He admitted before Sarah could throw herself into the fray. He knew already that she could be brutally honest...and this probably was not the best venue for that approach. "My name is Carth." He wasn't expecting Mission to recognize it, and she obviously didn't. "Captain Carth Onasi, Republic Navy. I was flying the cruiser that crashed recently. This is Bastila, and you already know what she is." Using the lightsaber after her release had been a pretty big giveaway. "And this is Sarah."

"Your wife."

Bastila coughed delicately, shaking her head slightly. Sarah remained focused, yet calm...most of her attention on the silent wookiee.

"Actually, no." It oddly hurt to admit it, and he wasn't willing to go any further. He truly could not bring himself to tell Mission just how recently he had met Sarah. "But we are...together." At least he thought, hoped, they were. Somehow, this had gone much further and deeper than he'd been expecting. And it had done it quickly.

Zaalbar growled something, shaking his light brown fur for emphasis. Whatever he said, Sarah took it well in stride, dropping her near combat stance, but Mission looked less than convinced.

"He said, names don't matter. We are who we are, what we were when we saved him. If we agree that we are together...then..." Sarah shrugged. "Nothing changes." She gave Carth a slight, mysterious smile and nodded. "And we agree. We are together. And we should be together, elsewhere. Far from Taris. Let's contact the Mandalorian, and get things moving."

"Sounds like a plan." He agreed completely. He felt uneasy, deep in the pit of his stomach. He'd thought it would go away when she returned, but it hadn't entirely. It sat back there and growled, making him nervous and tense. This was the feeling that kept his eyes glued to his scanners, made him hit an evasive maneuver, just for the hell of it. And most of the time, he was right.

"I know." She whispered as if he'd said it aloud. "We're running out of time." She pondered the idea for a second, before calling Ordo to let him know they had the codes, and to meet him at the cantina.

It took the man no time at all to reappear at the cantina, moving quickly back to the rear room. "I heard already." He said, his deep, gravelly voice marveling over the syllables. "They never knew what hit them. Still don't. Now, to get you together with Davik..." His eyes coasted over the group, and he shook his head firmly. "Leave the girls..." He waved in Bastila's direction and followed up by pointing unerringly at Mission. "Behind. Davik will never buy them as mercenaries, no matter how good they happen to be...but he will try to buy them as something else. He'll get persistent. Not what we need. You." He stared at Sarah, "With your game face on. Him." His gaze moved to Carth, "With his watchdog face on. He does it admirably. And me. Davik will buy that. Let's go."

"Right." Carth agreed into the following silence. It wasn't time to plan this, it was simply time to fly. The urge, the need, to leave Taris was becoming heartburn in his gut and absorbent packing in his mouth. He wanted out of here. He wanted to relax, sleep, shower, eat, and let his guard down for a bit. He felt dragged down, washed out. He felt just too damned old for this, even though it was obvious that the Mandalorian was at least a decade his elder, probably more.

Waiting will bring you all the rest you could ever want. Waiting will send you to wherever Morgana went..

And that was a much less appealing idea than it had been only a couple of weeks ago. It was a cop out, as well. He had people counting on him, and he'd never let down teammates, even if he wasn't sleeping with them. Being involved with Sarah took it to a whole new level, however. It took his usual commitment and responsibilities and threw in so much more. She was edging perilously close to family, something he'd rip out his own heart to see safe and happy...

I want to be with you.

It was that simple, and that difficult.

It was palpable in the air around Onasi, and Bastila breathed out in dismay. How much of this was an unwitting Revan, locking him in the same way that she had locked in Alek? But that had been different, at least then, Revan had the training to grasp what she was doing, to control it if she wanted to, and likewise, Alek supposedly had the training to see it, and resist it if he'd wanted to.

But Carth Onasi was no Jedi trained to understand and resist the will of a force user pushing him along. He was simply a man. A man who had lost too much already...

It wasn't easy to perceive Revan's workings, especially given that Bastila was still secure in one fact, Revan remained safely oblivious. So the ties she was using to bind Onasi were obscured, shadowy. And when Bastila finally saw through them, both distressingly and hearteningly few. They were there, undeniably, but not as blatant as she'd been expecting. This was equal parts Revan trying desperately to create a bond, which in itself was fueled by something more than expedience, because this had required her to open up to him as well; and the simple fact that Onasi was falling in love. The process was being accelerated, yes, but Revan wasn't using anything not given to her willingly. That would, just as it had with Alek, create a stronger bond than if she was forcing it upon Onasi against his will. He was a mostly willing participant to this, a perfect storm to create a bond as permanent as Bastila's own bond was to Revan.

We will stand together, the three of us. Or we will fall together.


	29. Chapter 29

Sarah was completely and totally unimpressed. Nothing screamed small fry quite as loudly as overly ostentatious surroundings, that fruitless quest for grandeur without the budget or taste to achieve it. She'd seen the real thing, and this was a very, very pale imitation of... something. She pushed that all away, she didn't have the luxury of sliding into another delicate little faint. Just a wannabe little gangster. Barely important enough to attract her attention...in fact, he wouldn't be, if he didn't have the only ship with a chance of getting her all too precious body and soul off of Taris ahead of Malak. He was a means to an end, and he was disposable. But she nodded and half smiled her way through the introductions, calmly distant when Kang's curious gaze fell on her. His moments were numbered, she could feel it. She wasn't sure why or how, but she faced a dead man. She just had to wait until he reached that point in his road...

"Of course I'm always hiring good people. We live in dangerous times." Davik Kang chuckled, his pale eyes coasting over Sarah. They lingered slightly below her chin, and she only smiled slightly, knowing that she did not pass that sort of muster. That was a fact she'd always been more than grateful for. Her lovers found their values in other, more ephemeral things than her bust-line. "I heard that you broke the Vulkars..."

Sarah shrugged, probably not. "Nah." She finally voiced that doubt, and Kang raised a brow at the syllable. "They'll probably crawl back together in awhile. Knocked 'em back a few steps, and they're ripe for the picking if that's how you want to go." He was expecting her to inflate her abilities, but honesty could be disarming, and it wasn't as if she felt any real urge to impress him. He was, just like his compound, a pale imitation of things that she'd seen better of.

"Your will, milord. Your will."

No. Absolutely not. Maybe later, when she had the time, and people she trusted to pick her up off the floor, dust her off and take care of her. Not now, when she needed to be a force in this game... It was a struggle to push the fugue away, but it suddenly snapped and was gone, just like that. She took a deep breath, cracked her thumb joints in her grip, and gave Davik Kang a blunt stare.

Bastila ground her teeth together, the very picture of focus. The memory was right there, screaming, pushing, immobile. At least Revan was, oddly enough, fighting it off...until she suddenly pushed it squarely onto Bastila. How had she done that? Little in what Bastila had been told about the bond even suggested that Revan could use it as a safety valve like that, but she just had.

"Your will, milord. Your will."

Bastila was immersed in the memory that Revan had rejected and driven into her, suddenly one with it. She could feel the weight of Revan's armor and robes, realizing that so much of the weight she'd experienced trying to aid the dying Revan on the bridge dais was not from what she know knew was a sparely built woman, but from everything that she'd been wearing when they'd confronted her. It should have dragged, encumbered, but Revan felt comfortable within it. In fact, Revan just felt supremely comfortable, at ease... everything around her touched, comprehended by, and guided with her innate and far reaching grasp of the Force.

"He says that now." The man behind Revan warned when the Exchange boss had been dismissed, and Bastila felt her eyes tear up. Alek. Or was it Malak? There was no hiding exactly what Revan felt for him when her attention focused on him, and Bastila could only accept the wave of loveobsessionlustownership that suddenly washed over her/Revan. Malak. He had already fallen at this point in Revan's memories. Revan had already fallen. This was the Dark Lord herself, and the truly frightening thing was, except for her fixation on Malak, nothing about her felt completely terrible, foreign, incomprehensible. Looking in on her like this was not what Bastila had both feared, and hoped for. It was a sudden and completely unwelcome epiphany.

Why? What had happened? That was a question they'd all like answered. What had overwhelmed Revan, had overwhelmed Alek? What had they faced, and been defeated by, when they had vanished after Malachor V? They'd been dark then, yes. They'd done terrible things, callously expedient things. But their rationale had been solid up to that point. Reckless, rebellious, but still comprehensible. They were at war to protect what they believed they were supposed to protect, and war was hell. They'd gotten their hands dirty, their souls marred...but they'd still managed to hold onto themselves through it. Their men respected them, adored them, loved them, followed them without question...because they'd already proved themselves. The Revanchists had held the line, and they had held a position in the eyes of the Republic that the Jedi who had bowed to the will of the Council could never hope to achieve even today, even after their fall. They had responded, they had fought, bled and willingly put themselves through hell to protect the Republic. Had it ended there, at Malachor V, they could have been in a position to challenge the Council itself. But it hadn't, and they had left the very moment that they were on an apex of power and influence. Revan, Alek, Meetra... poised perfectly to drive a schism into the heart of the Jedi Order, to bring the Revanchist into the light of the Republic, a martial, militant version of the Order. Had they simply imploded after they'd lost the focus of the War? Eaten each other when they ran out of Mandalorian targets? No. They could have done that quite well at home, they hadn't needed to undergo an exodus into the dark spaces of the Outer Rim for that. That had the feeling of yet another crusade, and whatever their objective had been, it was now lost to the Order. Revan's memories were a hair triggered explosive, and Malak wasn't going to share his secrets any time soon.

Show me. It was dangerous, and Bastila had no one to support her, but this moment of clarity in Revan's memories, especially with the understanding that Revan had turned away, rejected them, was too valuable to pass up.

NO!

Revan's sudden, convulsive reaction to that knocked the wind from Bastila's lungs and she was suddenly ejected back into her own awareness, slammed away from the bond.

"Damn." Bastila muttered, wiping the trace of blood from her nose and holding her temples. So close. And so very far.

Sarah suddenly felt annoyed, peevish, and she beat the external signs of that frustration down. Something had happened. Something had changed... But again, she didn't have the luxury to try to figure it out. These all came at the most inopportune moments, distracting her when she couldn't be distracted.

"You with us, Sarah?" Carth murmured, and she nodded agreeably.

"Yeah."

"So." Canderous said, pointedly ignoring that hazy moment. "We wait until late and then..."

No. No. No. No. It was a sudden, jangling pain in her head that invited insanity... just on the heels of the last insanity provoking feeling. What was it about today that just seemed bound and determined to put her back in a hospital?

"No!" It sounded exactly like she wanted to snap, and for a moment, Sarah thought she had voiced the panic rising in her soul... But that was voice was lower than hers, and came from a higher point behind her. "We...we don't have time for that. I..."

Well, she wasn't the only one stumbling over the imperative from nowhere, and Carth had the same inability to express it that she had. But there was panic in his deep brown eyes, terrible concern engraved in his features. "We don't have time, Ordo. We move now."

She expected backtalk from the Mandalorian, they weren't precisely known for their willingness to follow the orders of strangers, but Canderous stared between the two of them measuringly. "It's going to be rough to take the Ebon Hawk during the wake cycle, but if the two of you are up to it..." He shrugged, picked up his rifle and grinned. "Nobody's going to say that some Republic flyboy young enough to be my kid has bigger balls than I do. Let's go."


	30. Chapter 30

Sarah suddenly felt annoyed, peevish, and she beat the external signs of that frustration down. Something had happened. Something had changed... But again, she didn't have the luxury to try to figure it out. These all came at the most inopportune moments, distracting her when she couldn't be distracted.

"You with us, Sarah?" Carth murmured, and she nodded agreeably.

"Yeah."

"So." Canderous said, pointedly ignoring that hazy moment. "We wait until late and then..."

No. No. No. No. It was a sudden, jangling pain in her head that invited insanity... just on the heels of the last insanity provoking feeling. What was it about today that just seemed bound and determined to put her back in a hospital?

"No!" It sounded exactly like she wanted to snap, and for a moment, Sarah thought she had voiced the panic rising in her soul... But that was voice was lower than hers, and came from a higher point behind her. "We...we don't have time for that. I..."

Well, she wasn't the only one stumbling over the imperative from nowhere, and Carth had the same inability to express it that she had. But there was panic in his deep brown eyes, terrible concern engraved in his features. "We don't have time, Ordo. We move now."

She expected backtalk from the Mandalorian, they weren't precisely known for their willingness to follow the orders of strangers, but Canderous stared between the two of them measuringly. "It's going to be rough to take the Ebon Hawk during the wake cycle, but if the two of you are up to it..." He shrugged, picked up his rifle and grinned. "Nobody's going to say that some Republic flyboy young enough to be my kid has bigger balls than I do. Let's go."

It was almost laughably easy, none of Kang's so called guards had the slightest idea of what they were supposed to do with a seasoned Mandalorian veteran, Sarah and even Carth...already inside of the compound when they cut loose with destruction. They had been expecting the external defenses to warn them, to glean information and cull numbers, not to have something already on the inside make a move against them. Sarah powered down the corridors, pistol in dominant hand, vibroblade in a reverse grip in her weaker hand. Faster. More speed. Make the Mandalorian give chase. Running out of time. Hit hard. Harder. Now.

Don't let them think, don't let them react, plan. Just chew through them in a straight line to the docking bay... No time. No time. No time. She leapt into a group of three stunned guards, decapitating the first and using his falling body as a push to reorient herself to shoot the second. The Mandalorian shot the third without pause, picking up speed and focus as he went. They were committed, this was the only way to do this. Not going to get another chance...

And Kang was waiting for them in the docking bay, and he was not alone. Sarah took a half step towards them, readied to attack, when the voice in her head screamed a negative. Too late. Too damned late, and they were almost in the shadow of the freighter, their only hope. "Carth. Canderous. Get the ship warmed up, we are out of time."

"You can't take them on alone, Sarah..." Carth breathed in dismay. How could she explain to him what she didn't understand herself? Luckily she was spared from that when the first scorching, blinding beam cut through the ceiling of the docking bay.

"Go, damnit, go! It's started!" Their window was tiny, get the ship up, return to pick up Bastila, Mission, Zaalbar, and run like hell. And it seemed like the Sith were more than willing to take care of her gang boss and back up problem...the second and third bursts landed right on top of Kang... She was willing to take the gift as she found it, sprinting after Carth and Canderous, to the dubious safety of the freighter's open lock. Hopefully Carth was as good as everybody seemed to believe he was, because this was about to get ugly.

"Bastila, do you hear me?" She growled, cycling the lock behind her as Carth charged straight ahead, moving with a practiced ease towards what must be the cockpit. He did so without regard to the idea that anyone or anything might be lurking...obviously trusting the Mandalorian on his heels to deal with issues like that. Sarah would stay here, manning the lock, until they had everybody on board, speed of the essence.

"I do." Bastila's precise voice returned, her control admirable... the part of Taris she was in had to be taking the brunt of the bombardment.

"We have the ship. Get to where we can pick you guys up at."

"Understood."

Carth flew like a demon, the freighter twisting and banking, and Sarah grinned. Yup, she did so love her men to be competent...no...truly gifted. "Thirty seconds, Sarah." He warned tersely, all of the warmth gone from his syllables. He was in the zone, that perfect place.

"Lock cycling." It would change the flight profile of the freighter. Just slightly, but with the flying he was doing, every fraction was vital.

"I'm going to need you on the dorsal guns when we have them aboard. Canderous, you on the ventral."

"Understood." Her voice melded oddly with the Mandalorian's, and she grinned a feral grin. This was fantastic, fucking wonderful. She felt alive, and that was a rare experience indeed. Had she been alive like this before? The lock cycled, exposing chaos and destruction...and her heart sang. Taris was burning...burning...destruction rained down from the boiling sky. "I see you, Bastila."

Well, more sensed her, but Sarah wasn't in the mood to work out the small details. Carth was flying laterally, he'd skim alongside the skyscraper he was targeting instead of flying straight towards it and then trying to maneuver the freighter around. He was experienced at hot extractions, obviously.

"We see you as well, Sarah. Good approach vector."

Carth snorted over the link, and Sarah chuckled. So he had pride in his flying...from what she could see, it was justifiable. No false humility. And he threw proof down when he brought a freighter he had never flown before up to within a meter and a half of the roof that Bastila stood on. "Go, go, go!" She shouted, and the wookiee charged the distance, Mission in his arms. The droid followed, and then Bastila hopped the gulf to land beside Sarah... the lock cycling closed on her heels.

"All aboard!" Sarah bellowed, running down the access way to the guns, the heavy bulk of the Mandalorian filling her vision. He went down, she went up, taking the control yoke of the dorsal guns. It was the safer station for a gunner of questionable skill, easier and less chance of hitting her own ship. "Dorsal guns online."

"Ventral guns online."

"We're secure." Bastila's voice, a split second before Carth gunned the engines and the freighter exploded forward.

"We know we've got Interdictors in orbit." Carth hissed through his teeth, his voice loud in her earpiece. "We had a positive id on the Leviathan from the Endar Spire. This is going to get rough, even with the fleet codes."

Sarah only blinked, her attention fixated on the gun screens, feeling the freighter's engines hit maximum thrust and hang there. "Incoming." She snapped, knowing she'd see them coming before Canderous, eclipsed by the freighter's belly, would. "Fighters."

"I see them, darling." Carth chuckled. The freighter banked sideways, opening up both gun stations' arcs on the inbound Sith fighters, yet minimizing their profile. "And they're all yours... Bastila, where to?"

"Dantooine. We're running for Dantooine."

No. I don't want to go there.

Why? Well, it didn't matter, Sarah didn't have an alternate suggestion, and she had fighters to worry about. Let Carth do the flying, and let Bastila guide them.

There were the Interdictors, and her eyes paused on their graceful profiles. So beautiful, so graceful...a wonder of engineering that the Republic's Hammerheads could not approach. The Leviathan was secure in her fleet pocket, they were not in a picket line.

"Cruisers negative for picket." That gave them a chance to actually pull this off. The Sith fleet would never reach the Ebon Hawk in time to stagger her without that formation already being in place. All they had to survive was the fighter screen, and that was doable with Carth's piloting skills and a Mandalorian on guns.

"I see that. Plotting for Dantooine."

Lead lead lead. Sarah breathed out, dropping her targeting reticle to just ahead of the incoming fighters' noses and depressing the firing button. Of course, it didn't hurt that she wasn't exactly a slouch on guns herself...not as good as Canderous was, but not inept. And then, they ripped into hyperspace, starlight elongating around them, leaving Taris and the Sith fleet behind.

"Dantooine, next stop." Carth didn't try to mask the relief in his voice, and Sarah gave her suddenly blank targeting screen a toothy and feral grin. At least now there would probably be the chance for a refresher, and a bed...she'd worry about Dantooine later. At least Carth was safe. Bastila. The only two people around that she cared about, the only ones who didn't feel lost like the man in her dreams was.

She dropped out of the gunnery station, moving up to the cockpit. Carth was relaxed in the pilot's chair, his eyes closed. Bastila had the co-pilot's seat, her gaze locked on the view-screens...she felt far, far away. Sarah stared at the pair of them for a long moment, digesting how she felt about them. My family. And she'd do anything to keep them safe, anything at all.

"Sarah." Carth breathed, his eyes opening when he sensed her presence behind him. "We made it."

"We sure did." She chuckled, accepting his waved invitation to sit on his lap. "We sure did. Couldn't have done it without the best pilot in the Republic."

He only smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his forehead against her shoulder. "You did most of the dirty work."

"Dirty." She replied, and he gazed at her measuringly. "I'm filthy." She held her nose with one hand and waved the other as if to dispel her own funk. He shook his head, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Sister, we're all filthy. You don't hold it against me, I won't hold it against you."

She glanced at Bastila, but the Jedi still seemed to be oblivious to their presence now that the immediate danger had passed. "Maybe..." she whispered, "I do want you to hold it against me."

His eyes widened, and he burst out laughing, tightening his grip around her. "You are incorrigible." He managed between sputters.

"Yes, yes she is." Bastila finally responded, her voice droll. "I'd suggest that the two of you find a room, but I doubt if there's a private cabin on a freighter of this model."

"Why Dantooine?" Sarah asked, and there was the shadow of something that flitted across Bastila's beautiful features before the young Jedi schooled her expression into serenity.

"Jedi enclave there. They'll shelter us, plus I need to report to the Jedi Council there in regards to...well...this..." She shook her head, standing. "I'll leave you two to it."

Carth waited until she was well gone before letting his face show his doubts. "Poor kid." He muttered, shaking his head. "I don't care what she is, it's criminal to put this kind of responsibility on her shoulders."

"Agreed." She was in the mood to be magnanimous, safe, comfortable in his arms, the pleasant sounds of a new ship thrumming in the air. They'd done the highly improbable, come out intact, what more could one ask for?

"Poor Mission." He stroked her hair, and she considered the statement. The guy was just too nice for words, truly. He couldn't just bask in the accomplishment, he had to look at the other side. Most of her comments had something to do with Mission being grateful to have survived...to still having Zaalbar, so she remained silent.

"Are you okay?" That had to hit a little too close to home for him, and she was more willing, ready and able to tackle that than trying to figure out how to deal with Mission.

His grip on her tightened suddenly, his fingers shaking. "I was there this time." He breathed hoarsely. "I was with you. I could do something. I wasn't helpless, even if it was just to die beside you. Stupid, I know."

She nuzzled him under the line of his jaw, his stubble rubbing against her nose. He seemed willing enough to accept it as it was meant, his iron grasp relaxing as he calmed down. "She's probably right." He said, and Sarah stared at the line of stitching in his collar. Which she was he referring to, exactly? Mission? No, probably Bastila. "Dynamic class freighters don't have private cabins, normally."

She growled in response. She'd been so looking forward to a bed, but he was right. "So? I'll sleep on the floor to be with you." Had she really just said that? Worse, meant that?

"I...need..." He was pulling back, and his eyes were dark when she glanced up to his face.

"Time? Space?" Hardly what she wanted to give him, but she understood. This had been too close to something that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. Another heavily populated world, bombed into ruins. Another woman he cared for in the crossfire. Sure, he'd been there to back her up. Sure, they'd both survived, but she could sense that his turmoil had been stirred up again. "I got ya." She agreed slowly, rising from his lap and sending him an uncertain look. His eyes begged for understanding, for patience, and she nodded...running her fingertips down his cheek. "Sleep well, Carth."

Bastila was not surprised to see Revan come into the starboard dorm, decided during the time she'd snuggling up to Carth as the 'female' side. Mission was already unconscious in the bunk closest to the door, after a short and bitter cry had wiped her out.

"I'll take that one?" She asked, pointing to the bunk that didn't have Bastila's few belongings on it.

"Of course." No need to ask or even remark upon it. Carth's unease permeated the air around him, he needed time to be alone with his memories, room to sort them out and come to grips with them. Revan would only muddle them, draw it out longer than it had to be, and Bastila was surprised that she could perceive that. She really was willing to give him that sort of room, and the option to pull away from her in spite of everything. "He just needs a little time to work it out." Why, why, why was she trying to comfort Revan, especially with something she felt was so damned wrong? She's so damned...human. So damned...likeable. Oh, she couldn't get back to Dantooine fast enough.

Revan considered the statement, dropping her small bag on the bunk. "I know." She said. "I know. Just want a shower and bed right now, it'll all work itself out in due time."

She was in the refresher for quite awhile, paddling out barefooted, wrapped in a towel. Bastila did her best to not stare, or cringe... Revan. Revan. Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Revan...in a towel. It was a relief when slid, nude, into bed and was covered. "Yeah, I know." She said, "But I didn't bother to pack my jammies when the Spire was attacked, and you're wearing my off set of clothing."

True enough, true enough.

She was asleep in a moment, and Bastila laid down in the bunk just a couple of meters away from her, letting the excitement and stress of the day push her to sleep.

"Once we do this, we can never go back." Alek's voice echoed in the dream, but Bastila was simply along for the ride. "Is this truly worth banishment, Revan? Is the power of the Star Forge worth the price?"

Revan did not answer him, her shoulder was turned to the much taller man. A sun sank...or rose, Bastila wasn't certain... on the other side of her, and her expression was deeply pensive. Grass lapped around her, and Bastila knew where she was, because Bastila had spent so much of her time there, in fact, that was where she was dragging Revan back to.

"You can turn back still, Alek. The Enclave is there for you." Revan pointed towards the sun, and Bastila knew it was rising... she recognized the positioning of the two moons low on Dantooine's horizon.

"Leave you, Revan? After everything we've been through, together? After everything that we are to each other? Have you lost your mind? Do you think I am so weak that I would let you face this alone? Together, Revan. Either we give this up, together, or we go, together. As always. You are half of me, I can't...I won't... Revan, I love you."

It was an agony to experience, even secondhand. Bastila's eyes snapped open and she moved to where she could watch Revan. The vision was so clear, it was impossible that Revan could have it, and not remember. When she woke up, they'd have Revan to deal with. And it was going to be short...

Revan shifted, her eyes opened sleepily and she sat up, scrubbing her fingers through her hair. "Wha'?" She asked Bastila, honest confusion on her features, and the padawan relaxed. Still buried...Bastila had seen the true vision, unedited by conditioning, but to Revan, it had simply been a foggy dream that her bladder had interrupted.

"Nothing, Sarah. Go back to sleep."

"Will as soon as I get rid of some bilge weight." She mumbled, oblivious or uncaring that she was stark naked, traveling the few steps to the 'fresher.

Revan and Alek had visited Dantooine right before they'd vanished, Bastila had been aware of it. She'd been there, and had known that the Council had been expecting them at the Enclave, been expecting either a request to be taken back, or more likely, a confrontation. But they had not come to the Enclave, they'd left Dantooine without a word...and vanished.

Because they were not interested in the Enclave, or the Council. They'd gone to Dantooine because their first step in finding the Star Forge had been there. The Enclave, the place that they'd trained from their childhood, had not been why they were there at all. And Bastila was bringing Revan back...back to where she'd been trained, back to where she'd met and bonded with Alek, back to the first step on the path to finding the Star Forge.


	31. Chapter 31

Carth woke to the wonderful thrum of healthy engines vibrating. All just a dream, a marvelous and sad dream... He opened his eyes to the unmistakable click of a bolt being pulled back on a weapon. No, he wasn't in his cabin on the Endar Spire, he was in a freighter dorm. The click was from the Mandalorian seated close-by, maintaining his weapons. Not a dream. That meant that Sarah was on the opposite side of the ship, and he clenched his jaw. He'd fucked that one up, big time, but his mind had been full of Telos, and Morgana, and...

Sarah was not a child. She understood him, better than he understood himself most of the time. "Morning." He greeted Canderous, who gave him a glance. "The girls awake?"

"Two of 'em. The twi'lek was...but cried herself right back to sleep. Your girlfriend and the Jedi are awake, though. Nice flying back there, guess you're not all just hype."

"No, just mostly hype." Carth joked back, and the man gave him a half smile in response.

"Heh." Canderous snorted. "Meant what I said. Take it as that." He stared at the weapon, before nodding in satisfaction. "Dantooine?"

"I take orders from the Jedi." Carth stated firmly. And there hadn't exactly been a whole lot of time to bargain... Dantooine had been just as fine as destination at that moment as anywhere else...far away from Taris.

"Which one?"

"What?"

The older man simply shrugged. "Which Jedi? The older one, or the younger one?"

"Sarah isn't..."

"Right." The single word was heavy with doubt. "I've lived my life learning how to fight. I fought on the ground during the War. I've seen more Jedi fight than I've seen Mandalorians fight, Onasi. I know their style more than I know how to breathe...and your girlfriend is a Jedi. Why she's lying to you, can't begin to say..."

"She isn't lying." Bastila's voice was death behind them, and Carth flinched. "Carth. She isn't lying."

"She doesn't remember." Pieces started to fall into place, why Bastila watched over her so carefully. "The coma, the head injury..."

"Why tell her what she was, but probably cannot be ever again? Why burden her with that? She's recovered so much, we decided to let her be content with that.." Bastila spread her hands in supplication. "There's no sign that she retains any truly useful level of force control. She's broken."

"Ah. Sorry, makes sense now." Canderous nodded slowly. "I'll keep my mouth shut.

Carth closed his eyes, fighting tears. Just when he thought he got his head wrapped around what she was, he was hit by something else that knocked him back. "Why is she here?"

Bastila stared at him for a long moment, obviously weighing her answer. "Because, Captain, she and I share a force bond. When she was dying...in my arms, I held onto her and refused to let her go. And, to the end of our lives, I will continue to hold her. And she will continue to hold me. But you are the one she chooses. Never forget that."

"Understood." Well, no. Not entirely, but he knew he'd never completely understand exactly what she had just told him. And it was obvious by her expression that she knew that. "Is Dantooine the place to take her to, given that? She seemed less than enthused when you brought it up..."

"But still, I have to report to the Council there. And they'll want to be certain she is as well as she can be. There were..." She sighed, "flickers on Taris, faint traces that hint she may be recovering more than we'd given ourselves room to hope. If so, she needs to go."

"But." That was a second horror, one that stole Carth's breath away. "If she recovers, then she and I..." Had no hope of a relationship. How spinelessly selfish was that? Jedi did not have those sorts of relationships, even a clueless pilot such as himself understood that.

"Onasi. There is no chance that she will ever recover enough to re-enter the Order as a fully fledged Jedi knight again. She is free to pursue whatever future she can manage, and if that includes you, then it includes you. Just know I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, if that's so, you should start calling me Carth one of these days."

"Probably, and we should keep this to ourselves."

"What?" Canderous stated loudly. "I'm sorry, too many big explosions over the years have destroyed my hearing." He gave the pair of them a sly smile and picked up the next gun from the lineup in front of him. Carth shook his head, moving towards the galley. Sarah lounged in one of the chairs, one bare foot resting on a knee, and Carth studied her. Once, this had been a Jedi? A Jedi knight? ...a fully fledged Jedi knight again. There was very little room for misinterpretation in that statement. Bastila had not followed him in, her path would take her back to the starboard dorm...and Mission.

"Morning." He offered awkwardly, and she gave him a lopsided smile back. "Look, about last night. I'm sorry. I really am. I just..."

She held up both hands, palms towards him, in a universal halt motion but he kept on, ignoring it. "No. Sarah, hear me out. Please." He knelt beside her, down to her eye level. "I want to see how far we can go with this."

"And we'll get no farther than around the block if we don't both accept that we each have baggage, Carth. You have a dead wife. I have a memory loss. There will be times you have to mourn the dead wife and there will be times I will have to mourn the lost life."

Oh, if you only knew. Now he understood why Bastila had that stubbornly expressionless look so often, and he was going to have to work on his own.

"I wouldn't want you if you could let her go easily, Carth."

"Most people tell me to get over her. They say it's been long enough."

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, her fingers weaving in the hair at the nape of his neck. "It will never be long enough, Carth. You will never get over her. She will always be there. And..." her eyes locked with his, "That's how it should be. If she was worth it, then she should always be with you."

His breath caught. If he could just let it out, force it out, he'd be okay, but it stuck. She remained peacefully silent, stroking his shoulders, as he let it go again, soaking her shirt with his tears. He was still for a long moment before she spoke again, completely off topic, yet not.

"I don't want to go to Dantooine for some reason." She stated conversationally, as if he had not just cried all over her. "It feels like a bad idea."

Well, the great thing about having a raspy voice and a snotty nose was that he lied better. "Bastila gives me my marching orders."

"Mine, too. Doesn't mean I like them."

"Do you even remember joining up?" It was probably a stupid question, but completely avoiding questions was suspicious as well. His brain was going to hurt trying to figure out what he should, and should not, say.

"No. I do not. But I know I served." She watched him stand up and take the chair next to her, lifting the lid off of the hot plate on the table. "Where I learned to fly swoop bikes and shoot things."

"Always useful skills." He chuckled, regaining his composure and helping himself to food. "As for Dantooine...it can't be worse than Taris, right?"

"I...guess." Her hair was loose, and he smiled slightly. It was a good look for her. She felt relaxed, calm... "I missed you last night. I think I had weird dreams."

"Sorry. Did you scare Bastila with your nocturnal growls?"

"Growls?" She gazed at him dubiously, and he grinned, pointing a finger to her nose.

"You growl when you sleep. 'Who are you and what are you doing here?'" He dropped his voice as deeply as it would go, and she shook her head at his imitation. "Seriously, the first time you did that to me, I about freaked. On the edge of death, and you're growling. You do it a lot. Didn't know that?"

"Um. No. Thanks for the warning. I'll keep that in mind. When will we arrive at Dantooine?"

"Couple of hours."

"Good. I think the fact that I don't have clothing disturbs Bastila somewhat. She's not as happy about me sleeping in the buff as someone else is. Hopefully I can at least buy another shirt or two while we're there."

Well, there went Carth's mind...wandering happily towards that visual. She was really going to make him pay for last night, indeed. "We'll work something out tonight." He promised. "How's Mission?"

"Eh uh eh uh." She made a noncommittal motion. "Not happy we didn't tell her we knew the attack was coming, is aware that warning the gang would have merely meant that they would have known that they were doomed. No right call there."

No right call there. Much as Carth knew she was correct, it still sat wrong in his soul.

He finished the meal, cleaned up after himself, and sat back down in the pilot's seat, beginning the process of truly acquainting himself with the freighter. Like he and Sarah's original meeting, his meeting with the Ebon Hawk had been rushed, but he preferred to meet his ships on easier terms than fleeing Sith fleets trying to kill him.

"Surely you know the make." Sarah had followed him, taking a seat in the copilot's chair, and he shrugged.

"By reputation. Never actually flown a Dynamic before. Seems solid enough." Her only answer was a sharp snort, and he let that one lie where it fell. If it flew, then he could fly it. He didn't need to argue the point.

She sat with him in a companionable silence, apparently content to simply be close to him while he got to know the Hawk, finally dozing after awhile.

"Drop from hyperspace in 10." He announced over the ship-wide comm, and she stirred at his voice.

"To where?" Mission asked shyly from behind them, and Carth sighed. Poor, poor kid. It was difficult enough to handle this an adult, an adult with most of the cards...she'd been clueless throughout most of this. She'd just lost pretty much everything she'd ever had. He understood that feeling. And Sarah probably did as well, she'd even lost herself. Once a fully fledged Jedi knight...

"Dantooine." He was certain that the location had been mentioned several times, but he couldn't blame Mission for being preoccupied with the complete and total devastation of Taris.

"Ah, okay." She sounded numb, and all he could do was send her a sympathetic look.

"It's going to..." What? Be okay? Who would he be fooling if he went there? He, of all people, knew otherwise.

"You don't understand." Mission muttered, and he sighed.

"More than you know, Mission. More than you know. You just keep going on. Do you have anybody? At all...besides us, besides Zaalbar?"

"My brother, Griff. Except I don't know where he is. He left with a cantina floozy and never came back..."

Well, that certainly answered whether or not there was an adult out there that he would trust to take her...answered it with a resounding no. Maybe the Jedi on Dantooine could work something out...something had to be done. "Sit." He sighed, and Sarah obligingly made room for the teenager to sit with her in the copilot's seat. "About to show you something pretty wonderful that I bet you've never seen before."

Come on, Sarah. Warm up to her. She needed people who acted like people, and adults who acted like...parents. At least in the short run. It was as if she heard him, her slightly reluctant scooching away from Mission relaxed, and she sat up, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder as she studied the hyperspace tunnel flowing ahead of the Ebon Hawk.

"And we are..." He breathed theatrically, resting a hand on the throttles, "Coming out of jump...now."

The bright ball that was Dantooine rushed up to them and Mission gasped in delight. And if that was all he accomplished today, then it was a day worth living.

"Revan is..." Bastila sighed, opened her hands, and gazed up at the ceiling of the Dantooine Enclave council chamber. "Showing signs that she is coming back around, that she is recovering." That was exactly what they'd hoped for so deeply and dreaded so fully.

"Any hints to the location of the Star Forge?"

"Yes. She and Malak came here, they took their first steps to it from here. Her dreams are of a hidden temple east of here. That's where she took Malak. They found...something there. Her memories are...disrupted, flowing. But I am concerned as to the speed of her recovery. It was as if the first moment she left our control, it accelerated. And she's made regrettable decisions, which I need your help to fix." It was so difficult to make that admission, Revan was her responsibility, but she'd never, ever imagined that a recovering Revan could be quite so natural.

"Oh?" There was a weight of disapproval under Master Vrook's single syllable, and Bastila squirmed internally, dropping her eyes to Master Vandar , hoping for his support.

"She's developing a rather...earthy...and inappropriate attachment to a man. He needs to be rescued from her at the earliest possible moment."

"Rescued from her?" Vandar gazed up at Bastila, tilting his head and twitching his ears. "She holds him against his will?"

"Ah, well... she has used a minor force bonding...at the beginning. I believe she was injured on Taris, and during the time he cared for her, she may have attached to him... Now, I believe the relationship is pretty much consensual. She is not...holding him, no, but it's a crime to keep certain things from a hero of the Republic. He deserves better from us!"

"Hero of the Republic?" Master Zhar, usually even tempered, but often curious. He could fall either way on this one, and Bastila wasn't sure she wanted to trust him. "And does this hero of the Republic have a name?"

"Captain Carth Onasi."

"Onasi. A good man, yes." Vandar scrunched his face up, pondering. "What he did on Serroco was a stroke of genius and a truly decent act. He believed in Zayne Carrick when no one else did. A man who tries to follow his heart, even when it takes him on a difficult path. A pillar."

"He's lost his wife, his child, his homeworld. He is vulnerable."

"But now, he lives again. He hopes again?" The small master seemed transfixed by her words, his bulbous eyes thoughtful.

"Yes..." Bastila hissed the word out. "I'm not comfortable with this." Whatever this was, exactly. Certainly they weren't going to let Revan keep him, were they? "And anyway, Revan needs to be brought back into the Enclave. She is waking up. She can't do that out in the open, the Sith will sense her. And she cannot do that out of our field of view..."

"Agreed with that part." Zhar murmured. "If Revan reawakens, she must be kept here. She must do it under supervision. But she has finally started to show what we must see, through her bond with Bastila. Disturbing her may throw that process off, for all we know, this relationship has been part of the catalyst to pull her back from the shadows."

"Bah." Ah, sanity from Master Vrook. She'd been counting on that. "Revan's more visceral urges have always been one of her weaknesses. She led Alek astray with them, ignored the rules and gave into her baser desires. Are we to be surprised she's done it again?"

"No. It is a return to one of her usual behaviors. As noted, she returns to herself." Vandar was still deeply in thought, and Bastila knew he was following the flow and weave of the Force to weigh the value and threat of Revan's attraction to Captain Onasi. "She has always sought a deep attachment to a single man in her life."

"Which destroyed Alek." Vrook stated coldly.

"Alek was a Jedi, almost Revan's equal. His actions were his own. But that is not a valid concern here. Onasi is. He is no Jedi..." Vandar, still following things through.

"He has a flicker of force sensitivity. Never consistent enough to consider him for training. He is a truly gifted pilot...the force is within him, however. It is reflected in his heart." Zhar, the record keeper. Zhar, who had given the final okay to the Endar Spire's crew list...

"So he is alive to the force, yet not far enough on that path to walk into the shadows. His age?"

"Thirty eight. The same as Revan." Again, Zhar answering the concrete questions he would have seen the answers to in Onasi's personnel files.

"We promised, when we set Revan on this path...not of her own choosing, that we would give her all of the support she required. Taking away her chosen pillar would not be doing that. It is also cruel to a man who has begun his first steps back into life. Onasi is not Alek. Assuming he will fall as Alek did is an argument without merit. And, quite bluntly...so what if he does fall? He will not become a Dark Lord of the Sith. He could become an Admiral of the Sith, but nothing more. The risk is too high. Take him from her, and she will fight us...when we need her to listen to us the most."

"She cannot be retrained as a Jedi with a lover on the side." Vrook growled.

"She cannot be retrained as a Jedi if she refuses to deal with the people who took her lover away from her. If she runs from us. It will already be difficult enough to convince an almost forty year old woman with no memories that she can be trained as a Jedi, when every fool knows we can only train children. We need her as content as possible. We have already stepped outside of the orthodox with Revan, because we decided any chance at finding the Star Forge was worth it. Any chance. We break every rule to get this done, that's what we agreed at the beginning, when Bastila brought her to us."

Bastila bowed her head, already knowing the battle was lost. I'm sorry, Captain Onasi. I tried. I really did.

A small, clawed hand grasped her fingers and she stared down at Vandar. "Have faith, Bastila." He breathed, "Have faith in that one's heart. He will be the difference between what came before, and what comes now. He is a pillar of strength. And a beacon of hope. Revan must have him, or this is doomed. Don't ask me why, for I do not know the answer. That part is obscured, but I have seen him coming since this started."


	32. Chapter 32

Sarah was in a rare, fine mood. She hadn't really grasped just how oppressive their situation on Taris had been until it was lifted away from her shoulders, when she could breathe air, see a wash of lavender tinged grass flow and sing in a breeze. It was comfortable to walk the handful of shops and kiosks with Carth, to be out in the open, to be who they were. No Sith on the corners, no ticking clock counting off the moments until they died...just a beautiful day. Under a beautiful sky. With Carth, while Mission ranged in front of them, exclaiming in wonder over every little thing.

"This is nice." Carth murmured, reaching out to touch a shirt hanging on a display. "You wanted shirts?"

"Ah..." Well, yes. The one that had attracted his attention was not one she would have picked on her own, for some reason. He was right, it was nice. Lovely, in fact. Maybe that was its problem, Sarah was not used to choosing nice and lovely.

He seemed to take the 'ah' as an agreement, picking it up from the display. And the one underneath it. And the one underneath that, each the same style, in differing colors. "Would they fit?"

"Her?" The twi'lek woman manning the kiosk asked, motioning at Sarah? "Yes, no doubt. I'll give you a good bargain if you take all three..."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. She didn't need one very lovely shirt, much less three. At least they weren't girly... he seemed to have impeccable taste. Or his wife had, and she'd rubbed it off on him. "We'll take 'em." He stated, leaving Sarah just staring at him. "Hush." He chuckled when her outrage finally percolated through his obliviousness. "Let me buy you something nice. Okay?"

Oh, no. He was going to use that tone, combined with that expression. She was doomed, beaten. "Fine. Fine." She chuckled, taking the bag when the woman was done packing the shirts. "Thank you."

"Not done yet."

She gave him a sideways stare. "Two can play this game, Carth. You look a little disreputable, yourself."

It was far more enjoyable than it should have been, shopping with him. It felt so damned normal. Everyday. They came back into the Enclave courtyard, headed for the Ebon Hawk, when one of the Jedi stepped up, too close to Sarah, her brows lowered in something...disapproval? Threat? Sarah wasn't certain, and felt her hand drop to the vibroblade riding her hip.

"What do you think you're doing?" She demanded, and Sarah ran through her options in her mind. Shopping? Waiting for Bastila to be done with the Council? None of your damned business? All worked admirably, but only the last one truly encompassed Sarah's response, so she went for it.

"That's your business, how?" She demanded, stepping slightly away from Carth, opening up an apron of space around her.

"Where are your robes? Why are you dressed like...that..." The woman waved at Sarah's riding gear, her lip curled in distaste. "Where is your master, padawan?"

Padawan? Somehow that was just too immensely amusing for words, and Sarah barked out laughter. "Lady, I thought you Jedi were supposed to be insightful, or something. I'm not a Jedi. And I'm way, way, way too damned old to be a padawan, even if I was a Jedi. Which I'm not."

"You're not..." Her gaze travelled over Sarah's features, then drifted up to the silent Carth's stony expression. He was pulling that one off extremely well for a man who'd been all smiles just minutes before... "I apologize. I thought...well, you know what I thought. But..."

"You were wrong." Bastila's smooth, regal voice came from behind the woman. "Sarah is part of the Endar Spire team, along with Captain Onasi. Neither one of them is your concern. Have a good time?" The last was directed at Sarah and Carth, and Bastila waved at the bags they carried.

"Yes, we did." Carth answered, a slight emphasis on the last word. "Did it go well with the Council?"

"About as I'd expected. But it's getting late, my instructions are to show you to rooms here in the Enclave." A ghost of a smile danced on her lips. "The guest rooms have roomy enough beds for the pair of you to be...close, again. And then, dinner with the Council."

Rooms? Roomy beds? That sounded promising, especially if Carth kept up the sunny disposition he'd had for most of the day. A decent roll in the sheets with him was definitely something she'd like to look forward to, an encounter without the stench of desperation clinging to it.

The room Bastila showed them to was indeed nice, pleasantly austere and spartan, and, as promised, the bed was roomy enough for the two of them. "I'll let the two of you have some privacy, get cleaned up. You have about an hour."

She closed the door behind her, and Sarah collapsed on the bed with an overly dramatic sigh, covering her eyes with her forearm. "I don't like it here." She finally admitted it, out loud, to him and to herself. Why? Dantooine seemed a benign enough world. A bit of a backwater, but pleasant enough, and it should have been a welcome respite from Taris.

He laid down next to her, on his side facing her, burying his face in the curve of her neck. There was a slight distance there, he was physically close, but his thoughts were far away. Was she whining? Was he simply tired? Was he still thinking of his wife, even though he had treated Sarah to a shopping spree and bought her lovely clothing?

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." His answer was quick and easy. "I wish...I wish you were okay." She could feel his eyelashes against her neck, he'd opened his eyes and he was staring at her. "I wish I could do something. You mean a lot to me."

She turned her head to study him. He was, as she already knew... more than handsome enough, not showy, striking good looks, but he had a solid, sturdy appeal. But more than that, he just radiated...decency. He was as good on the inside as he was on the outside. "You worry too much." She chuckled, resting her hand on his cheek. "I'll do as well as I can, with what I'm given. Anyway, the rough part is behind us." Even as she said it, it fell false, and he gave her a dubious look. "Or not. I don't see why the Council wants to see us."

"I don't trust them. Be careful with them." His mood flickered into shadow, like the dark part of moonlit ripples on water and he draped his arm over her belly protectively. "They're up to something."

Well, that definitely felt correct, and she turned sideways to face him, her nose just centimeters away from his. "They put my ship, her crew, me, you... under the control of a Jedi padawan and sent us out to aimlessly wander until we attracted the attention of Malak's fleet. That doesn't exactly engender trust in them. And, of course, they won't tell me why." He sighed. "I don't like being used as a pawn, as bait. I don't like being kept in the dark when it comes to my mission objectives." He frowned. "It stank, Sarah, but they're Jedi and they get away with it."

What an interesting, interesting viewpoint. What a fascinating dark corner he'd just shown to her. And apparently, airing his dark corners came with a bonus... he'd been willing to let her do the initiating, be the one to push the intimacy forward. He'd always felt just a little ambivalent, uncertain... but he suddenly buried his face in her chest, his hands moving down her ass, squeezing just on the edge of pain. He had her sudden and complete interest in that moment, his hands running up her ribcage, his thumbs on her nipples. "Take this off." He ordered, plucking at the thin, stretchy material she wore. "It's been driving me crazy all damn day."

A moment of doubt was born...she felt almost like she was being manipulated, distracted, played. It died a heartbeat later, yes...this was a distraction. He wanted to distract himself from the doubts piled up in that corner, in a most visceral and perfect of ways. And he wanted to give in, to push away that ambivalence he felt with her...he was manipulating himself to go exactly where she wanted him to be anyway. It was a game that Sarah was happy to play with him. She peeled the flying gear from her skin, feeling the weight of his eyes on her as she did so. Yes, look. Just as she would look when he stood...just like he was, shrugging out of that jacket and dropping it the floor. His shirt followed, then his pants...he was hard already, jutting proudly under her gaze. "No." He half turned away when she reached for him, evading her, and she tilted her head curiously. So he was really going to be here for this...to add what he wanted instead of letting her have her way with him. He gently rolled her over, onto her belly, and she chuckled agreeably.

"So, you're an ass man." She marveled as he ran his fingers over her bare skin, following with his mouth, his tongue. That definitely seemed to be the area of his focus...

"Guilty." He murmured, sliding his forearm under her hips and pulling her back slightly, her weight over her knees, her chest still flush with the bed. "Yeah. Right there. Just like that..." He placed his palms on the cheeks of her ass, pushing up and away, exposing her completely to his eyes.

Sarah took a long, hard breath, resting her forehead against the mattress and bracing with her elbows. Well, when he decided to play, he really decided to throw in and play.

His tongue was warm, sliding from her clit up and delving deeply within her. He then caught her lips with his thumbs, squeezing her clit with them, cushioned gently by the folds of her own flesh, and then slid his tongue down the tunnel he'd created.

Her response was a shudder and a deep, guttural growl. Oh, yes. She could certainly live with this, especially when he curled the end of his tongue in that oh, so perfect way. And he was learning quickly, reading her responses, using the fact that he hadn't shaved recently...pulling his chin over her when he licked upwards. The growl became a sob, it was almost too much...almost, and when he gave in and sucked her insistently, all tongue, teeth, and stubble...it was her undoing. Her first orgasm was heart stopping, room spinning, vision graying...and he wasn't going to let her stop to get her breath back. He slid his thighs under hers, and planted an open hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her down as he penetrated her completely. Her second was three strokes later, as he pushed the envelope of how deeply, how hard, he could take this. And there was where she stayed, hanging at that point, until he entered his final few thrusts to his own finish, and took her along with him. He collapsed on top of her, spent, and she managed to wiggle out from beneath him, clinging close to his comforting warmth and solid presence. She could feel his heart thundering in his chest, his breaths gasping.

"By the way." He finally managed to speak. "You have a magnificent ass." He gathered her up against his chest, stroking her hair. "Just so you know."

"Yours isn't too shabby, either." She took a deep breath. It would be fantastic to just drift off to sleep like this...

"You are not going to sleep." He stated firmly, as if she'd spoken it aloud. "We are going to stay here for a bit, then we're getting up, taking a shower, and getting into our snazzy new clothes."

"Spoilsport."

"Bastila will come get us." He warned.

"Worth it to watch her jaw hit the floor."

"Nuh uh." He disagreed, stroking that perfect place between her shoulder blades. "You're a bigger person than that."

Am I? Am I really?

She remained silent, but did reluctantly get to her feet when he elbowed her to get up. He made up for it by scrubbing her back, covering her with suds and rinsing them all away. She returned the favor, running her soapy fingers over his broad back, rubbing, scrubbing and scratching.

She left the 'fresher, towel wrapped around herself, and opened the bags she'd carried back with her, considering her options.

"The greeny one." He suggested, firmly, following her out. "It's my favorite."

Greeny was a fairly precise description of the first shirt that had attracted his attention. It was, in fact, a rather deep mint green, with a grayish tinge, edged in gray and white. She shrugged, sliding into it, and tying it closed. It fit like it had been made for her, wide sleeves, stand up collar, surplice front that tied under her breast, and again at her hip. "I guess looking like a Jedi is the fashion in these parts." She chuckled, and he shook his head at the idea.

"I love the shirt." He stated firmly, tossing her new gray pants at her. "Love you in the shirt. Let's go have dinner."


	33. Chapter 33

It was an odd and awkward dinner, filled with long drawn out silences, and Carth treated it as he did any other formal dinner with the brass, he suffered, answering the questions directed at him as clearly and concisely as possible, but otherwise keeping his mouth shut. He knew he was being measured, and as the captain of the Endar Spire, he'd been expecting it. But he'd done exactly what he'd been told to do... by the Council, by Bastila. He hadn't known enough about what his mission was supposed to have been to figure out where it'd gone wrong. His orders had been clear, do whatever Bastila had told him to do. And she'd said, "Go to Taris." He had. There had been no way that what he'd had at his disposal was the equal to Malak's fleet, deployed there.

And it certainly seemed like Sarah stewed, volunteering nothing to the conversation and picking half heartedly at her food. Bastila looked like she'd be prefer to be somewhere, anywhere, else but where she was.

Bastila was too damned young for this kind of responsibility, she should have never, ever been in charge of him, his ship... and it had gone badly. He felt sorry for her, he really did...but he desperately hoped he wasn't about to be drafted to be her pilot, again.

But here they sat, staring at each other, saying the absolute minimum, picking at food and praying that it would all be over. "Sarah." The smallest of the Jedi Masters, Vandar, said when the silence grew very long. "Bastila says you are doing much better than you were the last time that we saw you."

"You saw me...when?"

His gray green ears perked at her intently. "You were brought here early in your recovery, before the hospital. Stabilized here, as was Bastila... the bond between you was newly forged. If you...did not make it... we needed to be there for her. And for you, of course. About that..." He glanced around the table, but the others seemed more than willing to let him do the talking. "We'd like to see you in the morning, alone. There are things we must know..."

And her stewing expression fell into downright mutiny. "Then ask them here. In front of Bastila. In front of Carth."

He chuckled softly, reaching across the table to pat her hand. "They aren't questions to be answered with words, Sarah. We want to see how well your recovery progresses. How well your link with Bastila has weathered the trauma you've experienced recently. And you were injured on Taris, another head injury." His ears drooped expressively, his gaze intent on her face. "You have people who care for you, Sarah. I do. Bastila does. And now I daresay Captain Onasi would be more comfortable if you were checked over by a healer? Or would he say you were not that badly injured?"

Carth hated to be cornered, manipulated, and held between a fuming Sarah and a Jedi Master. "I would say that she was that badly injured." He finally admitted, doing his best to ignore Sarah's stark gaze. "I still have the medical pad I used on her... It has the data."

"That would be most helpful, Captain Onasi, if she's willing to let us use it. Perhaps you'd be willing to try to convince her later...she does seem to want to leave now, however." She was gone as if that was a dismissal, leaving Carth to trail in her wake. What a mess, a true mess. But he couldn't just sit there and lie... he'd be a whole lot more content if they did check her over, and he couldn't deny that.

What a terrible, terrible end to what had been such a glorious day. It hit him hard, suddenly, and he lost the will to chase after her. He should have just let her fall asleep next to him, sated and happy...locked the door against Bastila, refused to go...refused to let them wake her up. But no, he had to be such an obedient sort, and it had bitten him in the ass, again. He went to the courtyard instead of following her into the wing that their room was in, moving out into the cool night air and admiring the Ebon Hawk at rest before him. He loved ships, each and every single one...and this one was a good one.

He climbed the ship with ease, stretched out on her dorsal surface, pillowed his head on his arms, and stared up at the star spangled night sky above him.

It felt like he was alone forever, but he'd have to guess it was less than an hour before she climbed up to join him, gazing at him steadily until he chuckled and stretched his hand out in her direction. He was not, repeat, not going to apologize to her... he'd been used against her and he knew it, but his answer was honest. He wanted her to be seen to, and if the Jedi Masters on Dantooine were willing to, then he wanted it done. He made no excuses for that.

"You changed." He said by way of greeting, a little disappointed. She had looked so lovely at dinner, in spite of her glare.

"Wasn't about to climb a freighter in those clothes. I thought you liked them...intact and clean." She was wearing the shirt she'd bought on Taris, he'd last seen it on Bastila. Of course, by now, Bastila probably had Jedi robes again and didn't need it anymore.

She sat next to him, hugging her knees and staring up at the same view. "This place, it just doesn't... I don't know, it 's like it's grinding at the edges of my perceptions. A constant nagging that just will not let up. It makes me nervous, and those Jedi made me feel... bad. I can't explain it. I know I've been here before, and they know what I don't...what I can't seem to bring up again."

"And that's why I'd like to have you seen." He sat up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and stroking her hair. "It's not right that you've lost your entire life. If they can help in any way, restore any of it... I'd consider it worthwhile. And you were badly hurt on Taris. You can't deny that to me." She was one of theirs. They had a responsibility to her, for her care. If she'd been hurt like this, taking on Revan... His stomach clenched at the idea. The time-line fit, he realized in a sudden epiphany. She'd been a fully fledged Jedi Knight, dying in Bastila's arms, just over a year ago.

Damn that bastard. Just another sin, another crime, committed by a traitor. Another check on a list long since called due...Revan was dead. Bastila had killed him. Over. Done.

"You were with Bastila's strike force. You were brought here after you were injured. Of course you've been here before. And it was traumatic, stressful..."

"Where are you guys? I can hear you!" Mission called from the ground, and Sarah sighed in disgust. He only gave her another quick squeeze before he stood up and walked to the edge, looking into the darkness. "Up top."

"So much for rolling around on top of the Ebon Hawk with you." Sarah grumbled when he sat back down next to her. He gave her a sideways smirk, and she simply stared back. "Didn't I do a good enough job earlier?" He asked, knowing that she'd had utterly no intention of inciting another encounter with him up here. She just didn't seem to like Mission.

"I... Don't be silly."

"She's just a kid." He whispered into her ear. "Who's lost everything. We're all she has right now, give her some slack."

"You're a nice guy, Carth Onasi." She sighed in something that sounded suspiciously like defeat. "She's surrounded by Jedi..."

"You've dealt with those before, and you wonder why she's out here looking for us instead?"

"True."

Mission had made the top of the freighter and she gave them both a smile."What are you two doing up here?" She asked, and Carth returned the smile paternally.

"Sitting here admiring the stars with my favorite lady." He noted. It was truthful, and he'd already discovered that Sarah was not immune to honey...at least when he used it. "Where's Zaalbar?"

"Don't know. Said he wanted to smell the grass, maybe even find a tree. Are there even trees on Dantooine?"

"Yes." Sarah answered quickly and firmly. "Some, they're called Biba trees."

"Great. It's good for him to see something other than Taris." She sat pretty far away from the pair of them, dangling her feet over the edge, staring upwards at the vaulted sky. "I never thought it looked like that." She finally said, and Carth sighed. Taris had been no place for her, and he was relieved that she was away from that. He had no idea where she was going from there, but at that moment, she was better off than she'd been in years. "So what now?" She finally asked the question that he didn't really have an answer for.

"Not sure, Mission. I'll do my best to see that things work out for you, I promise. But I don't know where I'm going tomorrow, much less anybody else." And that bothered him... it was entirely possible that the Jedi Council could, would, keep Sarah here. And send him away on their next fool's errand.

"Whatever you are thinking..." Sarah growled, in that voice...in her nocturnal bad ass snarl... "The answer is no, Carth Onasi. No."

Mission made a slight squeak, staring at her in disbelief. He knew the feeling, it hadn't been easy to hear that voice, the first couple of times. Now, it was just a part of her.

"You promise?" He asked, relaxing back on the Hawk's plating and filling his visual field with nothing but stars.

"I swear. I will not stay here if they send you away. I don't know what they want from me, but I'm certain I can become a huge nightmare headache if I want to be."

He laughed, that was something he was sure of as well.

`,`,`,`,`,`

Bastila took a deep breath, her hands on Revan's shoulders. The bond was loud, clear, strong...Revan slept and her walls were down. The intimacy almost hurt, and Bastila had to struggle to keep her face still while her instincts were in turmoil.

Protect her. Throw her in the freighter, and run with her. Onasi would be up for it...

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Revan's, letting it all wash over her. This ran contrary to everything that she was supposed to be, supposed to want. The force itself held her in a relationship, tied her to another person. Was this okay? It seemed like all of the rules had just been thrown by the wayside. No deep relationships...except for Revan, of course. With Revan, all of just became a muddled mess. Bastila was supposed to lie, manipulate, use. Not only to use Revan, who had committed sins, but Onasi, who had not. How was this any different than what Revan had done during the War? She'd justified it using the same rationale as the Dantooine Council was currently using...but what she'd done was 'wrong'. Whatever it took to stop the Mandalorians, she had done it, all to protect the Republic. And now, the Council was doing whatever it took to stop the Sith, to find the Star Forge. It was the same. All the same. Was she the only one who saw it? She'd love to be able to ask the one who had once known the best...but she couldn't ask Revan.

Vandar stood on the other side of the airy room, his eyes locked on the medical pad that Onasi had relinquished to him. If he sensed Bastila's doubts, he gave no outward sign. "Was it bad?" She sighed, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. She should have died. She did not...again."

"We're going to have to tell her."

He turned his head slightly, capturing her out of the corner of his eye. "Tell her what, Bastila?" He asked, hopping down and moving over to the side of the cot. "You are the one who has taken responsibility for her."

"Tell her that she was once a Jedi knight. It's the only way she'll accept any sort of retraining." Bastila immersed herself in the flow of Revan's sleepy dreams, touching, feeling, sorting them out.

"Risky." He muttered, placing a hand on Revan's chest. "Onasi is already starting to put the pieces together. If he can, she can. She will."

"She'll never accept mediocrity. She'll never accept losing Onasi. If we can't offer her competence, respect, she has no reason to listen to us. If we can't convince her that she's already accepted the leadership of the Order, she has no reason to listen to us. A truly new, adult learner is condemned to being third rate for the rest of their lives, bound by the Order, yet never to rise within it. Never to make a difference. She will never go for that." But telling her that she'd already been competent, already been adept...she only had to remember it, that was another thing.

"There is no much chance for catastrophe if she is unwilling, uncommitted. That is one of the reasons she must have Onasi. A reason to fight for, a light at the end." He studied Revan's still, calm features. "Whatever it takes to pull her back from the darkness, Bastila. Her link to us is already irrevocably damaged, nothing will ever mend it completely. She can never be a Master... if we can support her desires for a future outside of the Order, it would be the kindest way. We need her for this, but I do have her best interests in mind, Bastila. Onasi is an integral part of that." He nodded. "And I agree. We do not have the time to convince her that she is truly an adult learner, and expect her to believe us, commit to that, and then go looking for the Star Forge with you." He seemed almost melancholy, and Bastila stared at him.

"What is wrong, Master Vandar?"

He chuckled, moving back to his perch. "I miss her." He stated simply. "I miss Alek. I have so many questions about what happened to them, but I cannot ask them. Going to war, that I understood. I did not approve, but I understood. She stood before us and explained exactly why they were going to go, it was clear. It made sense. Every decision she and the Revanchists made during the War...made sense. And then, nothing made sense anymore. Until you brought her to us, I truly was not certain we were actually dealing with Revan...and not some Sith trick. Revan was one of the strongest people I've ever met and Alek could put her to shame. He was, much like Onasi, a truly decent man. He was devoted to Revan. He was devoted to the Republic. He was a student I was proud to call one of my own. He was a reminder of exactly why we were here, why we existed at all. And then he bombed Telos into dust and back-stabbed Revan. Something happened, Bastila. Something terrible. And I want to know what. But for me to know means that Revan would have to remember it...and that is something I can't live with."

"Maybe I will see it through her dreams..."

He flinched as if she'd struck him hard. "That, Bastila, is one of my greatest fears. Do not go there willingly. Do not try to incite it. Let Revan take that to her grave...it broke her. It broke Alek. Anything that can do that is nothing I want you trying to deal with."

"That's what I don't understand." She'd looked up to both of them, grown used to seeing them... Revan always in the lead, dwarfed by Alek shadowing her every step. They'd seemed so strong, so sure, so unbowed, so...pure. Everything that Bastila had aspired to be when she became a Jedi knight herself. Everything that she looked up to, and then...it had shattered. "They were mostly intact after Malachor V."

"We were expecting them to come home." She didn't need to hear his tone to know that he hadn't been looking forward to that eventuality. None of them had been... Revan and Alek were flushed with victory, the Republic military loved them, the people viewed them as saviors...everything that the Jedi should have been...but hadn't been. They had been in such a strong position, rumors whispered of a split Order, and so many people seemed to believe that a schism was both inevitable and positive. Let Revan and Alek train militant Jedi ready, willing and able to step into the breach for the Republic, and let the Order train a more ascetic, thoughtful branch. It hadn't happened, they'd come here...but they hadn't come home. They'd come to find the first steps to the Star Forge. And then they'd left... taking a large portion of the Republic navy with them. The next time they'd been seen, they were at the front of a Sith fleet headed into the Republic, any hints of what they'd been before were completely obliterated. They'd become monsters...and they were so very good at it. "Well, she's home now."

"How is she? I could feel her coming back awake on Taris. Then the visions started of what she was looking for here." That had been what they'd been hoping for, praying for. With what she'd seen in Revan's dreams, they could step on that path themselves, if they dared to. She just wasn't sure if she dared to...

"She recovers very quickly, too quickly. I will send another to follow the vision as you describe it...it's safer that way. Perhaps this first step is enough, perhaps we do not need to have her involved in this any farther. She could just go run off with Onasi, and be none the wiser." He sounded unconvinced and she did not bother to reply. "Marry him. Have a couple of babies and a home on Coruscant..." Now he was just being wistful, or was he...

"There are eddies between, around them. One moment I see just that, the next, I see tragedy, hatred, injury... Onasi a broken man. Too many variables to gain clarity through. We pay a high price if this fails, Bastila."

She nodded slowly, twining her fingers in Revan's straight, black hair. "But it is our only hope." The Dark Lord of the Sith...their only hope. Once, that had brought Bastila to a point of despair, but she realized that had changed. Her fear at being linked to such a...monster...had faded. Not a monster. And with that understanding came another fear, more closely in line to Vandar's admitted views. What had caused Revan to buckle, to shatter, to fail? It wasn't like her, even now.

"Indeed, Bastila. Revan is our only hope."


	34. Chapter 34

Sarah woke to a gentle knock on the door, and she opened her eyes. Carth was deeply asleep next to her, his breathing didn't even shift at the noise. She stroked his hair for a moment, relieved that he was finally letting it go enough to catch up on his sleep. It had been hard on all of them, but he'd borne it silently.

She slid from bed, opening the door quietly. Bastila stood outside, a pile of clothing balanced on her palms. "There you are." She whispered. "Get dressed, and meet me at my room. Here...you probably remember how to wear these...if you don't, I'll get it fixed up when I see you."

Robes. Sarah sighed, taking them and nodding at Bastila. "Give me a minute." She said, closing the door and surveying the pile. Had she ever worn these before?

Yes, but you were never that fond of them.

Ah, well, that was good to know. Some things never changed. She dressed, choosing to ignore the plain shirts that Bastila had brought, instead sliding into one of the shirts that Carth had purchased for her, the reddish chestnut with terracotta trim one. It worked well, and she didn't feel quite as swallowed up as the robes seemed to symbolize to her. But yes, it all felt very, very familiar. The pale beige robe swirled around her, an identity, a proclamation...

"Okay." Carth breathed from the bed behind her, and she jerked her head around to face him.

"What?" She asked, uncertainly.

He came up to her, comfortable in his nudity, tilting his head to take it all in. "I can see it now." He said with a smile, resting his fingertips on her shoulders. "You wear it well..."

"Don't tell me you have a robe fetish."

"Nah. I have a you fetish. And you wear those well. I particularly like the shirt...even though I think it might not be entirely correct."

"It's not...incorrect, precisely." She had no idea how she understood that, but she did. This was within the norms, less adherent than if she'd worn it exactly as Bastila had brought it to her, but acceptable nonetheless.

"Good. Good. Glad to hear. Hey, you'll do fine. I have faith in you. Go get 'em."

She nodded, giving him a quick kiss and heading for Bastila's room. "That works." Was the greeting that Bastila met her with, pulling her inside for a quick inspection. "And the rest of it is perfect. You remember this, at least. Here...I wanted you to have this before you got started."

It was a picture, and Sarah's eyes widened. It was the first picture that she'd seen of herself from before. It showed her, and Bastila...here, at Dantooine. She'd walked past this very point just last night, leaving the Council chambers. Bastila was much younger, a young teenager, trying her best to look mature and composed. And Sarah...it was a stranger with her own face, the woman standing with Bastila simply breathed confidence, command, utterly secure in her own skin. "You've come home to us." Bastila whispered, "Please, just keep that in mind. No matter what happens, Sarah. We love you. You're a part of us."

"Thank you, Bastila. Now let's go get this silliness over with." Except it didn't seem like nearly the same level of silly now as it had earlier. Clothing should not make that much of a difference... But it wasn't the clothes, it was what they symbolized. And they were a return...to herself.

"Bastila. You have to pay attention. You know she's going to try to bring you in closer...she has to. Deny her that. Keep her at your range, not hers."

Sarah rolled back onto her heels, waiting. Her training appeared to be training Bastila, none of the focus was actually on her. It was all very, very sneaky...very, very low pressure... She ducked out from Bastila's next huge attack, snapping back with a sudden flurrying push on the younger woman's unprotected side.

This killed Darth Revan? And yet, I could not? Bastila walked away, and I did not? This was easy, it was like breathing. What few doubts she'd had were long since gone, she'd grown up with a blade, a pair of blades, in her hands. I don't believe it.

She stepped into a sharp dance, taking the initiative, pushing Bastila along in front of her. Zhar merely cleared the way, watching, keeping pace, scrutinizing every move that the pair of them made. Sarah could feel everything snap into place, her stance, tight, almost curled, her belly pulled in tight ..taking advantage of her small size. The blade in her dominant hand, forward grip...it was supposed to be the longer blade, but she didn't have the right blades for this. The shoto in her weaker hand, reversed grip, the length of it tight against her forearm... it was supposed to be shorter, easier to keep close.

Bastila grunted, pushing back, attempting to open up an apron of space around her, spinning her training blade deftly, she'd hit Sarah dead in the shoulder, hard, if that came around fully...

Sarah reacted immediately, falling backwards, pushing off of Bastila and flipping in the air, using her offhanded blade to arrest herself... the world yanked out from underneath her and she fell...hard, smack on her shoulder blades, winded and dazed.

"Hold!" Zhar snapped, and Bastila pulled back immediately, rubbing her chest at the point that Sarah had pushed off of her from. "This. This is why you must go through this." He stated, squatting beside Sarah and staring into her face. "What went wrong?"

"There was too much of an arrest." She gasped, trying to sort out of her breathing again. "I stopped too quickly."

"Because you are not fighting with lightsabers. Years of training told you how that was supposed to play out, but it failed. Instinctive. Reflexive. Unthinking. And if this was real, Bastila would have killed you." He extended a hand to her, and pulled her back to her feet. "But it was a beautiful maneuver, right up to the point you yanked your arm out of socket and went down in a heap."

"Thanks. I think." And she'd broken her offhanded vibroblade as well, epic. Her hand stung and burned, and yes, her shoulder screamed in protest when she rolled her arm.

"It would have worked." He offered with a smile, and she stared at him. "It should have worked. I'm confident that your blade skills are still at a certain level of competency... Perhaps it's time we started to discuss replacing those lightsabers you no longer have."

"But..." Sarah shook her head at the idea. "Jedi carry lightsabers. I can't."

"The test in that has always been in the creation of it, Sarah. If you can create one, or both, of yours...then you have the right to. If you can go out there and find your crystal...if the blade will come together for you, then that is how it is. Are you going to cripple yourself just to keep from joining the Order...the Order you've already been told you'll never be good enough again to join?"

Not going to fall for the old reverse psychology trick. That wasn't even a graceful attempt.

He laughed as if she'd spoken it aloud, and maybe, to him, she had. "But I ask you, Sarah. How does this make you feel..." He leaned in, "Never to have them back. Ever again? Making do with vibroblades?"

Bastard.

"There is no emotion."

Lie. An unattainable goal, which becomes a weakness. "There is peace." Another unattainable goal. The only way to have peace is to destroy that which inherently flows through living things... Life is a struggle. It is never peaceful. Peace is a lie. Emotion is a fuel, tempered, it becomes resolve.

He stared at her, "There is no ignorance."

"There is knowledge." All knowledge. Even the dark secrets that the Sith sorcerers ply in... You cannot deny part of it, and then say that there is no ignorance.

"There is no passion."

Passion is part of the joy in living. Without it, we are empty, self denying fools who break ourselves, who strive to become automatons. Passion is just one more emotion. Again, a fuel. A tool. A part of us that cannot be removed, and should not be rejected. "There is serenity." And serenity is the calm through which passion must be measured, honed, valued, controlled.

"There is no chaos."

Hubris at its finest. The universe seethes with chaos, and you think you can deny its very nature? You will never have that level of control, thankfully. "There is harmony."

"There is no death."

Such is the truth. "There is the Force."

"You remember the Code." He smiled. "You remember how to fight. It's there, Sarah. We just need to give it all a good nudge. Now go, have that shoulder checked. You're not as young as you used to be."

Well, he had that part right, at least. She definitely wasn't as young as she used to be.

She was resting on her belly, warm, content, the salty smell of kolto hanging in the air around her. Her face was buried in the pillow of her arms, her back bare. She felt Carth's approach more than she heard him, although he cleared his throat before he rested a hand on her leg. "Bastila said you'd gotten banged up." He said, "And I can see that she's right. What the hell happened?"

"I got a little overenthusiastic during a sparring match with her. I'm paying the price." He remained silent for a long, recriminatory moment, and she laughed. "Say it. You know you want to."

"You're almost old enough to be her mother." He chuckled. "She isn't recovering from not just one, but two major injuries. She remembers being a Jedi. Sarah, you need to take it just a little bit easier on yourself." He sat on the small stool next to the exam table, his face serious, his eyes grinning. She couldn't look that bad, she'd seen him truly worried, and his eyes did not shine then.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I could have taken her, if..."

"If?" He stroked her hair, concerned. Such a nice, nice guy. What had she done to deserve him?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

"If I'd've had a lightsaber instead of a vibroblade."

"Is that a possibility? Replacing yours? I wish I knew more about this, Sarah. I don't want to say the wrong thing here..."

"If I can create one, I can have one. But do I want one?" It seemed like the whole thing was half assed... too many things unsettled. Be a Jedi...sort of. Just enough to not hurt those around her. Did she need a lightsaber for that? If she could, did, make one, what then? That was tantamount to proclaiming herself as a Jedi, but they seemed more than willing to let her do just that. It was confusing, something just didn't quite add up.

"Only you can answer that." He stated, resting his elbows on the exam table and resting his chin in his hands, his face close to hers. "But sister, a Jedi without a lightsaber is like a pilot without a ship. And I hear they're handy for all sorts of home uses... lockpicking, tree trimming, vermin eradication."

She had to laugh in spite of herself. She really did not deserve him. "Thanks, Carth. I needed that."

It took less than a week for Sarah's doubts to be laid to rest. This was not only possible, it was right. It was easy. It touched a still, pure part of her soul...and she wanted, no, needed, that part of herself back. It was what was missing. It's what she had to have to put her pieces back together. She might never, ever be a Jedi Knight again, she just might be too broken for that, but she could mend herself. And that clenched it. She had to have at least one lightsaber, preferably two...

"Where are we going?" Carth asked, watching her bundle together a few tools she felt she might want. She considered telling him that 'they' were not going anywhere, at all... but that voice in her gut, the one becoming louder and louder with each passing day, cut the words off. Take Carth. Take Canderous.

"I need crystals for my lightsabers. Dantooine has a natural source." Her original crystals had come from there... I wonder where they went...

Doesn't matter. You need to craft new ones. To prove to them that you're still capable. To prove that to yourself. A new start, Sarah.

"Ask Canderous if he wants to come with us."

Sarah stood on a slight rise overlooking the Enclave, confused and torn. She had felt that she would be drawn in one, firm, definitive direction. The 'right' way. She was drawn in two completely different directions, and both felt imperative. Carth watched her with concern, Canderous with fascination. But then, the Mandalorians had attacked the Republic to fight Jedi...a terribly inconvenient fact that the Order tended to gloss over.

Which way?!

Both ways. Damnit, no. Things had been going so well... No. She closed her eyes, swaying slightly in the incessant grassland breeze.

Which way, first?

There was a moment of nothing, of peace, and one of the points flashed in her brain. This one, first. Then the other, later.

She nodded, striding towards the now obvious destination.

At first, she doubted the wisdom of bringing Carth and Canderous together, without any other distractions to keep them amused. They picked at each other, pushing each others' buttons. They'd fought each other, for vastly different, cultural reasons... and now seemed willing to fight it out again, on Dantooine, while trailing her.

"I'm a soldier, not a warrior." Carth snapped from behind her, and she gave the two of them her attention again. They respected each other, but they needed this time to get over a War that had marked them both...so that they could work together. It was so important that they all worked together. They had to fit together, seamlessly, if they were to get through what was coming. And the silence and space of Dantooine was a perfect place for that to finally boil down in.

What is coming?

No answer. She was not surprised.

"There's a difference." Carth continued, not backing down to the older Mandalorian. "Warriors attack and conquer, they prey on the weak."

Sarah glanced at Canderous... The Mandalorians' intentions had never been to 'prey on the weak'. They'd intended to draw the Jedi into the conflict quickly. The Jedi had been their intended targets. The fact that the War had devolved into just that, attacks on the weak, could not sit well with them.

"Soldiers protect and defend the innocent. Usually against warriors."

"Nice speech." Canderous replied, and Sarah locked her jaw. This could go very, very badly. "I bet you tell yourself that every night, so that you can sleep. But I accept who and what I am. I don't have to justify it with words, victory in battle is my justification."

Was Carth going to back down? She hoped not, in fact, she'd be damned disappointed if he did. He'd done everything he'd been called upon to do during the War. She knew he slept just fine every night...next to her. He needed to hit back, or Canderous would never respect him. And without respect, this would never work.

"Justification through victory?" Carth's voice rose. "And what happens when you lose? You know, like you did against us?" He stepped closer to the Mandalorian, tilting his head. "I sleep just fine, thank you very much. I guess you could call me...justified."

Canderous stared at him for a long moment, like he'd just met a completely new person, before glancing at Sarah. "I see it now." He stated to her, "Yeah, you're right... Republic. The day goes to you. So...what are we out here for? Has to be more to this trek than culling kath hound numbers."

"We're going to a kinrath nest." She sighed, wondering if she'd stirred up something between the two of them that she shouldn't have. No, this needs to be sorted out now. Here. Before...

Before what?

Before you entrust your life to them. Before you entrust everything that's coming to them. Everything has to be tight. Good. Or it will all fall apart under pressure.

"You two good now?" She demanded. "No more pissing matches?"

Canderous chuckled, clapping Carth on his shoulder. "Sure thing." He replied, turning away and watching the horizon. "It's getting dark...we should find a place for the night. I'll stay in sight and signal when I find one." He strode away, Carth staring after him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, Sarah. I just... grrrrhhhh." He curled a lip. "It's over, right? The War? Shouldn't I be able to just let it go?"

She glanced at him. No. It's not. "He owns it because it was the greatest time in his life. But you have to own it because it wasn't...but you did what had to be done. And, yes. Own the fact that we won. Every time he gets lippy, smack him back in the face with it. For both of us."

"You were a Jedi." He breathed. "In the War."

Ah, yes. That. "Guess that made me a Revanchist." She admitted slowly. "I defied the Council."

He sighed, turning to her...before he reached out and grasped her shoulders, strong and supportive. "No matter what happened afterward, Sarah... we thank you for that. We couldn't have held the line without Revan's followers. The Jedi who answered our call for help."

"The Mandalorians came to pick a fight with us, Carth. The Jedi. The least we could have done was to give them their fight. I... I became what I did to protect people, not to stand by and wait. That, I am certain of."

So many crystals, clustered and brilliant in the tight cavern. The air was charged with them, the fog around them whispered and hummed. Carth and Canderous, now safely in a detente, stood together just inside of the cavern...covering her, but staying well away from the glowing formations.

They call. They sing.

But none of them felt right. Sarah turned in place, uncertain. She couldn't take them if they weren't right. They were too precious. But she couldn't keep Carth and Canderous cooling their heels, just waiting for more kinrath to come boiling back into their egg chamber. Time was of the essence, but some things shouldn't be rushed.

None of these are right. I'm in the wrong place. I'm a failure. I'm not what I thought I was. They're right. I'm broken. I can't...

Your true crystals are not here. The fact that you are not broken is how you know that. One, and only one, here is good enough until you find the ones you are meant to have. You are looking for something that is not here. Look for what is here.

She moved slowly to one of the crushed kinrath eggs, noting the odd glow it still had, although the hatchling within it was gone. A single crystal shard, and she plucked it from the ooze, holding it up. It glowed suddenly, brightly...and very, very pink, like watered down blood.

"Pink?" She echoed dubiously, and Carth laughed outright...the sound bitten off suddenly, but it echoed in the damp cavern well after he'd tried to stop it. "Okay. Pink it is."

For now. You'll live.

Somehow, Sarah wasn't quite certain about that one. It was time to return, and to find the rest of the pieces from the stores in the Enclave. She knew they were there. She knew just where to find them. She could close her eyes and see them.

The path back was a driven one, and the men with her seemed to sense it. The rest of it had to be there. It just had to be.

.`.``.`.`.`.`..`

Bastila watched Revan return, the older woman's face was set. She could sense that Revan carried a crystal somewhere on her, unset and new...a strong, powerful young crystal. Revan did not pause, moving through the enclave like she knew exactly where everything was, straight into the workshop.

"She found one. I can feel it." Bastila stated as greeting to Carth, and he merely grimaced in amusement.

"She did. Yes. I don't think she's that happy about it, but we were successful." He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "What color is it supposed to be?"

No. Revan had used a single crimson lightsaber on the bridge of the Coruscate, the color of blood and rage. Dantooine was one of the only sources of crystals that could form in a natural red state...most Sith used artificial red crystals, manufactured. "Blue. Green. Yellow." She breathed in dismay. "But there are many other shades, Carth." Red, orange...

"Such as pink?"

Pink? Revan had pulled a pink crystal? A mix of white and red, worrisome yet encouraging. Bastila would have been more comfortable with several other shades, but things could have been worse. "It's not completely unheard of."

"Ah, ha!"

Revan appeared in the doorway, brandishing a dusty, plain wooden box. "I found them! I..." Confusion crossed her face, and Bastila felt it flow through the bond. She was remembering... "Bastila?"

"Let me see what you've got there." Bastila sighed, and Revan surrendered the box to her. Bastila thumbed the catches on the box and opened it...exposing two lightsaber hilt housings. They were masterworks, curved, inset, engraved, and she had no doubt who had crafted them...and who they were intended for. A smaller Jedi, female, who favored a lightsaber/shoto combination. The curves matched that the main hand was supposed to be held forward grip, and that the shoto was meant to be held reversed. Revan had crafted her own replacement set, and left them here on Dantooine... "You made these." Bastila stated, and some of the doubt fled Revan's face. "For yourself, I would have to say. You're the only Jedi I know that could even use these. But you found only one crystal?"

"I found none." She replied, but held out the contradiction to that statement, a pink shard glowing brightly at her touch.

"Ah." Vandar could be damned sneaky, diminutive, silent, when he wanted to be. "Temporary? Yours are not here?" His eyes were locked on the crystal, "Sad. But if that is how it is, then we cannot argue. Pink. Not a common hue."

"For good reason." She muttered, and he simply shrugged.

"The force doesn't concern itself with vanity and preconceptions, Sarah. Those are ours to deal with. If your lightsaber is pink, then it is pink. You have always had a flamboyant edge. This could just merely be a reflection of that. Now, go... you have the pieces. Make a whole."

She nodded, taking the box back from Bastila and walking back into the workshop. Carth went the opposite direction, with a goodbye and a vague comment about maintenance, leaving Bastila standing alone with Vandar.

"Pink." He chuckled.

"Vanity. Preconceptions. Pale red."

His ears drooped slightly at the last phrase, and he nodded slowly. "Indeed, Bastila. Pale red, caught in the middle. Even more interesting that she got a noncommittal response...that is not truly meant to be hers. Whatever it is that is right for her, is not here. Dantooine has one of the broadest range of natural lightsaber crystals available, and the right crystals for Sarah are not here. But I scouted the caves earlier when it became obvious that she was going to be crafting a new saber...and there are red ones growing there. We should take that as a good sign, Bastila. A hopeful one."

"Did she know this was coming? I didn't even know that she had crafted the hilts for an entirely new set. Those were made by her, for her."

"It is possible, Bastila. She often acted on instinct, let her impulses override her training. But no, I did not know that she had crafted hilts and left them here. But you are correct. By her, for her. Everything I saw in that box is over the top...Revan."

Bastila bit off of a curse, and he took her hand. "But Bastila, everything I saw in there is over the top Revan...the Revan I knew once. The Dark Lord of the Sith would not carry a lightsaber hilt engraved and inlaid like that."

"That is just so wrong."

"Or so very right."

,`,`,``,`,,`,`,`,`

I made this. She had no doubts about that, she had doubts about everything else. Had there ever been a point in her life when she could express such joy? Such beauty? So openly and confidently? It was a celebration, an exhibition...and she'd abandoned it here. To wait for now? Had she foreseen a day when she'd be back here, broken, in need of it? She'd made mistakes, somehow she knew that. And the more she remembered, the more she was certain of that. I am a Jedi. I was a Revanchist. I fought in the War. I broke somewhere along the way. But at one point in my life, I was that woman in Bastila's picture. I was secure, confident. At one point in my life, I was able to create beauty and not shy away from it.

She surveyed the hilts slowly, finally removing the longer one and arranging it and the component pieces on the table in front of her. She focused on them, and they levitated into the air, each part aligning with the section it was meant to attach to. Must be created by the force...

It didn't want to. Things were wrong. The crystal didn't fit, it wasn't the right one. She was suddenly exhausted, beyond frustrated, and rested her forehead on her arm... just to close her eyes for a second. She vaguely heard the solid thump as it fell to the padded table in front of her, but it didn't matter.

"The dark side is strong in this place. We will be banished for certain. Is the power of the Star Forge worth the cost?"

"Hey, Sarah. Sweetheart." A voice, wondering and amused, very much real. It cut through the fuzzy, dizzy haze like a knife, she was wide awake, but unable to open her eyes. "Sleepyhead." Carth accused, picking her up, balancing her head on his shoulder. "You going to get her stuff, Bastila?"

"No." Bastila's response was terse, Sarah could feel Carth half turn under her. "I won't be the first one to pick up her lightsaber. That should be for her to do, not me. Wake her up."

"Sarah. Wake up." He sat on the bench, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Come on..." A thin edge of fear tainted his syllables, the amusement fading. "Sarah. Wake up!"

Her eyes finally shot open, and he took a deep, relieved breath when she met his eyes. "There you are." He smiled. "Bastila wants you awake."

"I know. I wasn't asleep. Er, I was...but I wasn't." That was going to get her put back in a hospital if she wasn't careful...

"You were in a trance." Bastila said, leaning in and staring at her. "Awake but not awake. It happens, but you did it." Pride leaked from her voice, she was doing her best to not grin from ear to ear...

"Did what?" Fall asleep without falling asleep? That was noteworthy?

"Your lightsaber..."

"Doesn't work. It won't come together." Sarah shook her head, extricating herself from Carth's lap and gazing down at the worktable. There, sitting in pristine glory...a complete lightsaber. She'd done it. It was perfect in her hand when she picked it up, curving exactly as it should. The hilt was perfection...

And the blade was not even close to the bright pink horror she was expecting, based on the color of the unset crystal; the core was golden yellow, with a rosy pink nimbus.

"Bastila?"

"I don't know. I've never seen its like. We'll ask Master Zhar if the archives mention that hue..."

"Master Zhar. Sarah has created her lightsaber..." Bastila began, and the twi'lek master turned, regarding the three of them curiously. "I'm not familiar with the color of it."

"Vandar has told me that it is pink? A rare color, but not unheard of."

"Well, it's not exactly pink. The crystal is but the blade is not...Sarah..."

Sarah thrilled to the sound of the lightsaber, her lightsaber, igniting in the dim archive room. Zhar's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed, before he nodded. "A dawn crystal. Shining. New. Very fitting, Sarah. Very fitting indeed. I've never actually seen one, but there are mentions of them in the archives, and they often come into the possession of Jedi like you. Those who lose their way, fall, or have had their calling snatched away from them...only to recover it later. A new dawn in their lives."

"I see."

"Carry it with pride, Sarah. Never forget what it symbolizes. And remember that the dawn ends the darkest of nights."

How very...profound. Sarah nodded, switching it off and hanging it without conscious thought at her side. It felt unbalanced, wrong, to only be carrying one... but it was so much better than carrying none.

"Oh, Bastila. We sent someone out to check that area you spoke to us about." Zhar frowned, "And he has not returned. Tomorrow, you will go see what has happened to him. Take Sarah with you, since she has more than successfully completed her latest test. And for that, I give her my congratulations." He gave Sarah a smile, but as always, it felt reserved. Held back. Somewhat empty, guarded.

I defied you. You won't openly hold it against me, now, because you know I don't truly remember it...but it's there. It's been there with every interaction we've had from the beginning. It's why Vrook spits when he talks to me. You wait and see. Only Vandar forgives. Only Vandar hopes. Vandar, and Bastila.


	35. Chapter 35

It was a beautiful day, one of those that invited a soul to remember why they were alive. Sarah kept pace with Bastila, wrapping the silent peace around her. She didn't feel this in the Enclave, but she felt it out here, surrounded by space, solace, and kath hounds. It was good to simply stand with someone who had, by accident or design, become integral to her life. Something she couldn't let go of. Another part of herself. She felt both less...she'd given up parts of herself...to Bastila, and indeed, to Carth...and more. They held her up. They filled places in her that she hadn't even realized were empty yet. And she was so very empty...

And Bastila was so very silent, as if she felt it as well. "What's up?" She finally asked, deciding that no, something else was going on with the younger Jedi.

"I've messed everything up, Sarah." She finally admitted, "And I'm afraid of where it goes from here. I don't want to burden you more than you already are...I have to manage this on my own."

"My understanding of how this goes is that you are not supposed to 'manage this on your own', Bastila. And I'm not so far gone that I can't at least give you my opinion...right?"

"Onasi. He doesn't trust me, he never has, but now he has reason to. He's gotten close to you, which makes what happened to the Endar Spire even more personal than it was before. If...if this is right, and we can start retracing Revan's steps to the Star Forge, he won't leave you. You've made his life worth living again..." Somehow, that echoed with sadness, and Sarah gazed at her warily. But then, Carth was a gift, a relationship that Bastila was denied in her own life. Or she was empathizing with his prior losses, devastating blows that he was only now beginning to step away from.

"I won't leave Carth." And I can't leave you.

" I know, and I wouldn't ask it of you. There are enough broken pieces between the pair of you to make a whole. It's just..."

"You don't want to travel with him. To deal with him. To depend on him. To ask him to depend on you."

"He...disapproves of me." Bastila shuddered, and Sarah chuckled. And that was it, exactly. This one sought approval from those around her. She wanted to be viewed as competent, mature, trustworthy. Carth was almost old enough to be her father, and he could just breathe all of the above virtues when he put his mind to it. Competent. Mature. Trustworthy. And then he could spice them all with a paternal weight, Sarah had seen it in action with Mission. The man had been born to be a father, a partner...which was why his losses had been so catastrophic. "And I'm sure the Council is going to want him to fly this, with the Ebon Hawk."

"Well, that sucks." Sarah sighed, climbing to the top of a ridge and staring around. It was getting dark, and she saw no signs of what they were out here looking for. She could sense it, pressing on the edge of her perception, but it was still distant. "Damn ship."

"No cabin?" Bastila chuckled, climbing up to stand next to her. "No privacy?"

"No room. I'd happily sleep in the open, as long as I had a double bed. Carth's not a willowy thin kind of a guy." And she doubted if he'd ever been, she couldn't ever imagine him being anything but what he was. She couldn't even begin to imagine him as a younger man, as a gawky teenager.

"No, no, he's not." Bastila wrinkled her nose, without thought, and Sarah only shook her head. She didn't expect Bastila to understand what she saw in him, that required age and experience, nothing that Bastila possessed when it came to this subject. "We should find a sheltered spot, Sarah. We won't make the site before dark."

"Right." Sarah hopped off of the ridge, ignoring the three meter drop as if it were nothing at all, and strode around the upthrust, looking for a covered section at its base. "You're just going to have to change his mind, Bastila. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but he doesn't entirely blame you."

There was a washed out undercut in the lee side of the ridge, sandy and dry, protected, and Sarah sat...waiting for Bastila to follow her to it.

"He doesn't? Wait, you've spoken about this? Oh, of course. You've talked with him about a lot." And that was...what? It almost sounded like jealousy, like Bastila felt left out. Sarah sensed loneliness, a wistful distance.

"We've talked. He doesn't blame you. He blames those who gave you a responsibility you weren't ready for. He believes that the council here on Dantooine failed you, and failed him in the process."

"Does he think you're ready to be the responsible one instead of me? If we're sent? Will he follow you?"

Yes. Carth will follow me.

But somehow, that didn't fill her with security, only an edge of dread. And it was as if she'd spoken it aloud, because Bastila only nodded. "Bastila, I have a question..."

"Which is?" She asked, digging out a shallow depression and setting a small fire in the sand, closest to the wall.

"I was a Jedi. Was I good?" Or simply good enough? She wasn't certain if she really wanted to know, but she'd asked it. It was out now. Had she become this because she wasn't good enough? Lost her memories because she hadn't been strong enough? Would she fail again? Fail Bastila? Fail Carth? Maybe this was the wrong question... maybe it should be if they were willing to follow him.

He doesn't understand what he will need to know to lead this. His place in this is set...one step back, on your right. He is your bulwark. Your support. The one you turn to when you can turn to no other. But only you can lead this and have a chance at success. They rely on you, and you must bear this burden.

Bastila bowed her head, taking a deep breath, and turning on Sarah. "You." She began slowly, taking a hold of the folds of Sarah's robe, gripping the beige fabric in her fists. "Were not good, Sarah. You were so much more than that. You were amazing. You were what I dreamed of becoming. And I'm certain that you still are. I've watched you since I brought you back here. You are still loved by the Force. You are still great. You just have to be patient. Get some sleep, though. I'll watch."

"We have to do something. We can't just sit on the sidelines and let the Mandalorians tear the Republic apart! They're ours, our duty, our responsibility, our calling! The Mandalorians know this, this is why they're attacking our people! We're using the Republic as a shield, avoiding our own fight! It's pathetic. We're pathetic."

"The Republic must stand against this threat on their own, for now. Your reaction is a noble one, but it is fueled by emotion. You need to stand down, in fact, you need to return here to stay for awhile...your control is slipping. There is no emotion, there is no passion. This is the only lesson you've ever had an issue with... wait! Come back!"

No. She strode from the chambers, her robes flapping like the wings of a carrion flier behind her. Fool. Fool. Cowardly, asinine, fools.

There was a woman standing in the courtyard, she wore the uniform of the Republic Navy, her bright orange beret tucked under her armpit. She was taller than Sarah, imposing in a unyielding way, pale blonde hair cut short. "I take it by your expression that is a no."

"It's a no."

"You still with us?"

"I am."

"Then let's go. Before they decide to possibly even act to get you to stay. Oh. Right, they don't act."

Sarah opened her eyes to the light of the rising moon. For the first time, she remembered a name from the before time. That woman's name. It had been Ayala. Mundi Ayala. She'd remembered something.


	36. Chapter 36

"I have a question, Bastila." And every time Sarah started a conversation with that line, Bastila looked as if there were a thousand other predicaments she'd rather be in, a thousand other places she'd rather be. How was Sarah supposed to find her way when this was the reception every question brought her?

"Yes?" And her answers always had that scrambling for answers before the question was even asked feeling.

"I had a dream last night." Sarah moved through the knee high grass, leaving no trace behind her. And yes, there was that stare from Bastila, wary, guarded, uncertain. Afraid. "It was different. Clearer. I'm certain this was mine, not Revan's. I...remembered a name."

Bastila glanced around, pursing her lips. "Whose?" She finally asked, and Sarah did not miss the fact that her hand dropped, too close to her lightsaber hilt for comfort. Why did she do this? Why was she afraid of this?

"Mundi Ayala. She was here on Dantooine with me. A tall woman, blonde. Was wearing a Republic Navy uniform..."

Bastila looked puzzled for a long moment, that was not what she'd been expecting Sarah to ask...or remember. "Carth would be a better one to ask that of, but yes, I know of Captain Ayala. She was very involved with the Revanchists, you would have certainly known her, but then, Revan would have known her as well. A very strong captain, commanded one of the Revanchist fleets... chances are high that Carth served with or under her at some point during the War. She was not a Jedi, so I had no contact with her." She shrugged, and seemed honestly confused. "I don't know why you would remember her, out of everybody you knew. An interesting question." But not apparently one that Bastila wanted to ponder, she picked up the pace, forcing Sarah to hop to keep up with her.

They came to the site just at mid-morning, drawn towards the flutters of darkness in the force around it. And, when Sarah focused, she could sense death. Very recent death. A force user, one she had known...before.

"Bastila...?"

"I feel it as well." The younger Jedi murmured, a furrow engraved between her brows. "We should be wary."

Well, that went without saying. Sarah was suddenly very, very thankful that she did carry a lightsaber, instead of vibroblades. She was also carrying a pistol, just in case... "Don't worry, I'm not in any hurry to leave Carth alone again." It was meant to be a rather lame joke, but Bastila seemed to take it at face value, the line between her brows smoothing out.

"Good." Bastila answered, moving around the featureless, grass covered hump in the prairie. There was a gate indented into the opposite side of it, and Sarah stared at the interlocking, black metal segments. It looked unpleasantly like a prison...and it breathed malign energy. "You think it's unlocked?"

"Oh, they're always unlocked...until you get in." Sarah noted, and Bastila merely stared back at her. The girl really needed to relax. Or take the stick out of her ass. Life was hard enough without a little levity to smooth the way. That was one of the points she enjoyed about Carth, even when things got bad, he could crack a smile, crack a joke. He could make her take a breath when she needed one the most. She missed him...

"Stop that." Bastila growled. "You saw him yesterday. You'll see him tomorrow, after we defeat whatever that is...in there. And escape the unlocked door locking behind us."

"Am I that obvious?" Sarah followed her up to the doors, not at all surprised when they slid open all by themselves. Any thought that Bastila was going to have the opportunity to answer that faded immediately, Sarah was expecting darkness...but the space beyond was lit. And occupied by what looked unpleasantly like a small torture droid, standing in the center of the stone room. And all too visible, a body... Nemo. It was as if he'd been born, grown in her mind, and been snatched away from her in an instant. He'd... been there for her, many times in her foggy past. She understood that implicitly, and now, he lay dead before her. A stranger, a friend, a brother under arms...

"Sarah. No. You must control your emotions, giving into them is letting them drive you...not the other way around. If you destroy it, we may never find what we came here for."

Well, Bastila had half of it correct, and Sarah was willing to bite her tongue and bide her time with the rest of it. The Council had sent an elderly man out here, alone, to make certain that her visions were correct. And he'd died out here, alone. The very idea was rage inducing...

The droid in the center emitted a raucous scream of noise, and Sarah instinctively ignited her lightsaber, holding it in a guard position in front of her, stepping out of Bastila's larger apron and opening up fighting space between the two of them. But it still did not move...and oddly, in Sarah's cynical view, the route to retreat remained open behind them. But something had killed Nemo here, she wouldn't become complacent.

There was an expectant pause, and the droid produced an even more disturbing array of gnashing sounds. But it still hadn't moved, hadn't threatened...

Again, an expectant wait, and then it produced another string of noises that sounded...almost...like something that Sarah had heard before.

"I think the droid is trying to communicate with us by cycling through a variety of languages. Each time it spoke, it was using a very different alien dialect. The droid can probably understand us. The only problem is that it might not have been programmed with the phenomes of a dialect we can understand." Bastila tended to talk too much when she got nervous, and Sarah glanced at her, swallowing back the 'duh' response that statement might have deserved under different circumstances.

"I can reproduce any of the languages spoken by the slaves of the Builders." It finally produced something that Sarah's mind made sense of, a strangly, glubglubby string of syllables that incited resentment and amusement from somewhere deep in her soul. Whatever spoke this language naturally was not one of her favored races... but she understood them.

"Hey, I understand that one." But it was apparently entirely too much to ask for her to actually place it. And, understanding what had been said really didn't fill her with comfort... slaves? Never a good thing, all the more reason to take this thing apart, piece by piece.

"I recognize this language as well. It is an archaic variant of the Selkath dialect spoken on Manaan. But why would a droid on Dantooine be programmed to speak ancient Selkath?" Bastila mused, and Sarah merely sighed. It was rather like traveling with a droid programmed to impress a new master...overblown and over-talkative. Selkath...Manaan. A vision of a brilliantly clear day, a sharp breeze...horizon to horizon ocean...so very blue. She'd been to Manaan. Lovely planet. Truly annoying indigenous sentient race...the Selkath. There was a certain dark amusement in the realization that this droid apparently considered them a slave race... Maybe it wasn't as bad as it had first appeared. She moved cautiously towards Nemo's motionless body, every sense on high alert, but the droid seemed less than impressed by her progress. Instead it seemed more than happy to keep right along with the conversation it was having with Bastila, as edifying as that was...

"Communication was vital to ensure that the slaves constructed this temple according to the wishes of the Builders. But you are not of the slave species. You are like the one that came before." It thrummed, content, while Sarah rested her hand on the elder Jedi's back. He was still, empty. Dead, and he'd been that way for quite awhile.

"Why did you kill him?" She demanded, finally getting to hear exactly what Carth described as her 'nocturnal growl'. It was probably fruitless to argue with it or accuse it, programming was programming, but she was coldly furious. The very need to see if they could get information out of it before she hacked it up and made it into metallic/ceramic confetti only infuriated her more. Bastila's calm, methodical response only infuriated her more.

"I am not programmed for combat. I did not harm the one who failed. The temple's own protections will destroy those who seek knowledge of the Star Forge if they are deemed unworthy."

And that was the truth. She sadly patted Nemo's back and stood, aware that there was nothing she could do for him...and all she was doing was jeopardizing what they'd come here for. Time to pull her shit together and get things done, now.

"What are you? Why are you here?" She asked, knowing if she let Bastila start again, they could be here for hours. The very air here was heavy, oppressive, and she felt trapped, targeted, walking on a thin edge.

Carth.

It was as if she'd been dropped in cold water after a drinking binge, and everything snapped back into focus. How much longer was she going to have to live with this feeling that things just slid and caught in ways that just weren't right? It seemed like only he could hold them at bay. Only he could pick her up, and make the jangle in her head settle down.

"I am the Overseer. The Builders programmed me to enforce discipline among the slaves while this monument to the power of the Star Forge was constructed. At project completion, all slaves were executed. I was reprogrammed to serve should a Builder return in search of knowledge of the Star Forge."

Ugh. Sarah had never been very fond of droids like this, she felt an empty gap of understanding behind its responses, but no one was ever forthright enough to program them to just come out and say, 'Hell, I don't know!' "How long have you been here?" She asked, hoping that concrete questions like that one, the kind that her own mind found to be the most acceptable, would work here.

"My chronological circuits have marked over ten full revolutions of this system's outermost planet around the sun since the Builders left." It returned smugly, and Sarah couldn't remember enough about Dantooine and the system to piece that answer together...

"Ten revolutions would take more than 20,000 years. If this is true, then this droid would be 5,000 years older than the Republic itself! There must be some sort of mistake." Bastila said, moving away from Sarah, closer to the droid than Sarah happened to appreciate. Nothing was going to blur Sarah's mind to the fact that a Jedi lay dead here...and Bastila wasn't going to be joining him in that. Even if she was foolish enough to get so close...

"There is no mistake. The Builders constructed my chronological circuitry using the technology of the Star Forge itself. My calculations are infallible." Oh, and Sarah truly despised egotistical droids. It took a truly warped mind to program that into one, which meant one was never certain what else had been programmed into one of them.

"Who are these Builders you keep talking about?" It was a pale joy, a sentient might have realized the veiled insult in Sarah's question...if these 'Builders' were so great, then the likes of Sarah should know exactly who they were. She wasn't expecting the droid to get it, and indeed, it didn't seem to.

"The Builders are the great masters of the galaxy, the conquerors of all worlds, the rulers of the infinite empire and the creators of the Star Forge."

Sarah sighed, nodding to herself. Conquerors of all worlds, except for any that Sarah apparently had any experience with...including Dantooine itself. But there was one bright, shining, bated phrase in that response... creators of the Star Forge.

"These Builders must have been an extinct people, though it is strange that there is no record of their existence. Even the archives at the Jedi Academy make no mention of them. In the years before the Republic, the Hutts were a dominant force in the galaxy but they never constructed an empire. In fact, I know of no species that would fit with this information." Bastila mused, and Sarah nodded at her. At least Bastila's recall of her training, her education, was still intact. And it sounded as if she'd paid plenty of attention in her classes. Sarah was not as certain that she had.

"The empire is infinite and everlasting. None can stand against their might and the power of the Star Forge." The droid parroted, and Sarah scrunched her face up at it. It was an exercise in futility to argue with a droid's programming...but she couldn't hold back a subtle jab...more for her own benefit, for Bastila's benefit...although the younger woman looked much more entranced than annoyed.

"Have you seen a Builder recently?" She asked sweetly, and Bastila gave her a slightly amused glance in response but remained silent. And too close to the droid.

"I have been here since the completion of this monument. In all this time, no Builder has returned to seek information on the Star Forge." It replied, and Sarah contemplated the answer. In other words, no. And that had been a long, long time if its responses were to be believed.

"What is the Star Forge?" She asked. The Republic was working under the assumption that somehow, the Star Forge was what was able to allow the Sith to produce their endless fleets...either directly or indirectly. The general belief was that it was a shipyard, a production facility, hidden somewhere in the depths of space. But that was an assumption, it could be completely wrong. They could be going after something entirely unrelated to that. They could be chasing the wrong thing altogether.

"The Star Forge is the glory of the Builders, the apex of their infinite empire. It is a machine of infinite might, a tool of unstoppable conquest." Quite an impressive non-answer, and Sarah tried to focus through her own internal doubts, her anger. There were answers here, to dismiss them completely out of hand reflected badly upon her.

"But what is it? What does it do?" Sometimes the blunt, direct way worked the best with this sort of programming. Often they were set to respond to soldier proof basic questions. They might be getting too deep.

"The Star Forge is the glory of the Builders, the apex of their infinite empire. It is a machine of infinite might, a tool of unstoppable conquest."

Or...not.

"The droid is obviously not programmed with the information we seek. The Star Forge sounds like some sort of weapon, perhaps. In fact, it could be anything." Bastila glanced at Sarah, obviously frustrated. They were close, Sarah could sense it. So very, very close.

"Could it have been a weapons plant or factory?" It dawned on Sarah that she'd never even asked Bastila what she thought it was.

"Maybe. That might explain how the Sith were able to amass a fleet so quickly. But I suspect that the Star Forge is much more than a mere factory. Maybe the droid has more information we can use. It seems to respond to you; perhaps you should ask it something else."

It seems to respond to you... Oddly yes. Except for the time that Bastila had insulted its owners, it seemed almost to ignore her. But it responded to every twitch that Sarah had made.

"Where can we find the Star Forge?"

"Now that the slaves are gone, my purpose is to aid those who seek the knowledge of the Star Forge...if they are worthy. The ones who came before you, the ones like you, not Builders but not slaves, sought knowledge of the Star Forge and its origins. They proved themselves worthy. They uncovered the secrets of the Star Forge locked beyond the sealed door behind me. But there was another recently who failed to unlock the secrets and paid the ultimate price."

"The droid must be talking about poor Nemo. The Council sent him here to investigate...and it cost him his life." Bastila said, and Sarah stared at her silently. Why had they sent him here? Alone? It made no sense, and it raised the warm tendrils of rage in her stomach. Except that wasn't supposed to be there, was it? But was there any other correct answer to the death of an old man, someone who should have never been out here in the first place? Bastila sounded sad, mournful, but for the life of her, Sarah couldn't incite that same feeling in herself.

"Did you kill that Jedi over there? She ground out, feeling Bastila's attention lock on her.

"I am not programmed for combat. I did not harm the one who failed. The temple's own protections will destroy those who seek knowledge of the Star Forge if they are deemed unworthy." It responded levelly, unmoving and oblivious. Sarah sighed, and reined in her anger. It was being useful, and it had more answers than she did. Hacking it into itty bitty pieces sounded like a great idea, but it would accomplish little and harm much.

"How can I prove myself worthy?" Fine. She'd play its game...for now. Too much was riding on this for her to do otherwise, her own safety, Bastila's safety... Carth's. Everybody.

"Enter the proving grounds to the east and west. Within them, those who understand the will of the Builders can unlock their secrets and open the doors. But those who fail will be destroyed by the power of the temple itself. More than this, I am not programmed to say."

Sarah nodded, stepping slowly away from it. There were indeed two doors, one to the east, one to the west, and she skirted the droid.

"Revan and Malak unlocked the sealed door and uncovered the secrets to the Star Forge. Now Malak is using the Star Forge to fuel his conquest of the Republic. We have to find out what they uncovered. We have to find a way to learn more about the Star Forge! The Republic is depending on us, Sarah." Bastila exclaimed, and Sarah nodded. Had she been this enthusiastic when she'd been Bastila's age? Losing those memories seemed to be a blow to whatever empathy she could have gotten from looking back at her own experiences. She was lamed by their lack, or maybe she had always just been this detached? I feel broken. Less than I am supposed to be. Unfulfilled. Empty.

"Then let's go, Bastila. Time to see if we're worthy."

Silly question. Of course I am.

The huge, ominous door opened before her, exposing another wing...and... She hit the floor, rolling, well before her eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom inside. It was gone in an instant, a flash of blinding light...fire...heat...passed over her now prone form.

"Fire!" Bastila yelled, and Sarah growled in response.

"Duh! It has a flamethrower!" She warned, hopping to her feet and moving away from Bastila to flank it. It appeared to be exactly the same as the droid in the main hall...with the marked difference of hostility and a ready ability to set Sarah on fire. Damnable robes...

The robes were an annoyance, but the sound of a lightsaber, her lightsaber, igniting in echo with Bastila's, was a glory. A wonder. Her soul sang and thrilled to it. It all clicked together perfectly, and she surged in. This wasn't training, this wasn't play. This could hurt, and it brought that immediate clarity and focus she yearned for. She knew how to do this. And she knew how to weave it in with another, fighting alongside her. She had no doubts this was what she had been. What she was meant to be. What she still was.

Bastila was obviously trying to take the brunt of the fight, and while Sarah appreciated the gesture, she didn't need that kind of care. This, she had down pat. Everything else in her life, no.

It wasn't a quick fight, whoever had built this thing to cull the unworthy had pretty high standards for what they must have considered to be 'worthy'. After awhile, it became obvious that Bastila couldn't take the brunt by herself, that only their seemingly innate ability to fight together would bring it down. We are bound.

Her grip on reality frayed, shifted, but she pushed through it. Not here. Not now. Again, it came when she simply did not have the luxury to study it. And by the time this fight was over, it would be gone.

She snapped back into perfect clarity in a second, when Bastila stepped just slightly wrong. It wasn't even a slip, not even a bobble. Just a less than optimum foot placement, her blade too low to compensate. Her speed, just a hair off... Not going to recover in time...

Sarah launched herself in the air, steadying the hilt in both fists, driving her weight down on top of it. Her eyes were closed, she landed on instinct. Gut. The Force. Whatever. There was a loud grinding noise, a squeal, and then...pure silence.

She opened her eyes to an expanse of dark gray surrounding her. No, that was the floor, just two centimeters away from the tip of her nose. She'd come uncomfortably close to face planting herself into an unforgiving surface, her lengthening bangs brushing against it. Her toes were hooked behind where the droid's legs protruded from its body and she was suspended along its back, her hands at her belly...the vibrating thrum of the still active lightsaber alive in her grip. It was a precarious position, and one she wasn't sure how to gracefully extricate herself from. Once the threat had ended, her ability to move, react, with beyond human agility had fled with it. She deactivated the lightsaber, hearing Bastila's approach.

"Take my hand." The younger woman offered, "I'll give you a pull up."

Given little choice, Sarah accepted the pull, and rolled away, coming less than gracefully up to her feet. "I...don't understand." She muttered. "I..." Had just leaped five meters from a standing start, landed blind, inverted, on the back of a moving target, ramming a three centimeter wide blade through a weak point that same width. But she couldn't get up from where that had left her without help, or some ungainly flopping.

"Just saved my life." Bastila soothed, resting her fingers against Sarah's shoulders. "And that was an amazing move. The recovery afterward, well... we'll work on that later."

"Uh huh." Sarah muttered. Her robes were singed, scorched...the smell of burning hair heavy in the air. A quick glance at Bastila, and a furtive check of the growth on her head and face proved that the majority of the smell must come from their robes.

There was a computer panel in the back of the room, and Sarah approached it warily, hilt still grasped in her hand. It hummed and throbbed as she approached, the screen flickering to life when she stood in front of it. Characters, words, began to scroll across it, but she had never seen their like before.

"Can you slice it?" Bastila asked, and Sarah shrugged a negative.

"I don't think even Mission could." She finally admitted. She had rarely run into a language, a form of communication, that she didn't know...until she'd come here. But Revan and Malak had gotten through this. And the droid in the main hall had been desperate to be understood... She pressed a button, only to get more completely incomprehensible words. "I don't know, Bastila." She admitted, leaning in close and puzzling over the screen. "Maybe it's like the droid. Maybe it can figure out our language, if we give it enough of a sample..."

The screen went suddenly dark, the whirring silenced, and for one terrible moment, Sarah thought it had died completely. I've broken it. By the stare on Bastila's face, it was obvious she was not the only one thinking that. The fate of the Republic rested on an ancient piece of alien workmanship...? "I swear, I didn't touch it."

The screen flared to life again, but gave her another string of babble. Was this just a repeat of what they'd been through before, a cycling through of languages? "None of these are even close to Aurebesh or High Galactic." She could read quite a few languages, decipher numerous symbologies, but not nearly as many as she could speak.

It beeped, then emitted a cascade of tones... one echoed by the datapad hanging at her waist. There was silence for a moment, then the same tone repeated, again to be answered by her datapad. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands...its screen was live, showing the same intriguing characters as the ancient computer was displaying. "Well, we're either getting somewhere, or it has corrupted my datapad." She stated, and Bastila nodded. Just a moment later, a slot opened in the front of the computer, and Sarah grimaced painfully. If this failed... Well, then, it failed. She slid the datapad into it and steeled herself for the disaster. More whirring, a loud and ominous click, and Aurebesh characters appeared on the screen. Unfortunately, they still appeared to be gibberish... Hrsiki? Jsoofs oiuwn so h itasoo'khf?

"Damn." She breathed, and sighed in disgust when it ejected the datapad from the reader. Still not much closer than they had been before...

"DATA INTERPRETATION COMPLETE LANGUAGE ANALYSIS COMPLETE. CONTINUE."

Bastila crowed in delight, clapping her on the shoulder. "You did it!"

Sarah doubted that, but was willing to take the credit if Bastila was going to give it to her.

INTERROGATIVE: INDENTIFY THE THREE PRIMARY LIFEGIVING SEED WORLD TYPES:

Grasslands

Oceanic

Desert

Volcanic

Arboreal

Barren

"You have got to be kidding me." Sarah grumbled. There had to be some mistranslation. A mistake. Answering this proved her worthiness? Or was this just flotsam, a point of interest? Destroying the droid had been a challenge. This was just a joke.

"It can't be that easy, Sarah."

"No. It can't. But nothing seems to be any...deeper...than that." Maybe that was it, exactly. Not the time to over-think it. Just answer the damn question. "Grasslands, Oceanic, Arboreal." She stated, choosing each of them in turn.

PLANETARY SEED CONDUCIVE TO LIFE. BREAKING LIFE SEAL

And there was silence, she could hear her own heartbeat. She could hear Bastila breathing. But nothing else at all. That seemed to be it, for this side. "So we attempt to prove our worthiness by taking on the other side?"

"That's a plan."

They passed back out into the main hall, but the first droid still seemed quite content to leave them alone. Had Nemo passed these tests, only to fall here...so close to it? Had he fled one of the side rooms? She didn't remember if he'd been an impressive combatant and it seemed disrespectful to ask Bastila that, here. He'd been...paternal. Caring, she'd known him for years...

"Sarah!"

"What?"

"What are you trying to remember?"

"Nemo... I..."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. Yes, you knew him. Yes, you were pretty close. By the time I started my training seriously, he was getting too old to... he shouldn't have been out here by himself."

He shouldn't have been out here, at all. Now, she understood exactly how Carth felt about the task he'd been given, about his trepidations with following Bastila. Foolish decisions, things hidden, lives lost needlessly. She set her jaw, another thing to file under later, when she had time. Now, she had a job to do.

"Ready?" She asked, standing just beyond the door. Bastila nodded, Sarah stepped forward, the door whooshed open and...there was fire. "Surprise, surprise." She laughed, bounding into the room, Bastila on her heels. It was just the same as the first one, except this time, they knew where to hit it and it became a competition to get it down before Bastila landed the killing blow...a competition that Sarah lost.

"Computer." Bastila chuckled, and Sarah grimaced, moving over to it. Yep, just the same. Same, same, same...until it reached the question. "Three primary death giving seed world types." Well, that sounded a little more dire than the first one... but still a dubious challenge at best. "I'm going with...Desert. Volcanic. And...Barren!"

"You're enjoying this too much." Bastila accused with a slight smile, her eyes locked on the screen.

PLANETARY SEED CONDUCIVE TO DEATH. BREAKING DEATH SEAL.

And still nothing. She waited, she felt, she sensed...before she shrugged and spun to stride back into the main hall, back to the droid still waiting placidly for their return.

"You have proven yourself worthy, the sealed door is open. If you wish to learn the secrets of the Star Forge, you must pass through the door beyond."

At its words, the final door opened...with no fire, exposing just another large, dim, silent room. Sarah strode down its length, every nerve on high alert, Bastila's presence at her back a comfort. Sitting at the very end of the room, something...black. For some reason, her mind conjured the idea of a tightly folded flower bud, except this gleamed with a dull, metallic sheen. It clicked open as she drew near, the petals opening outwards. The ball within rose, levitated, and the space was flooded with light, color...an expanding globe of teal lights, and an image of a bright galaxy unfurling within it. It was beautiful... and it stirred sluggish memories deep in her soul. But were they her memories? Or just a transfer from a long dead Revan?

"This, this must be what Revan and Malak found when they entered this temple. This must be where their journey down the dark side began. This is a map, some sort of intergalactic navigation chart. Revan and Malak must have used this to lead them to the Star Forge. We could use this map to follow their path and find the Star Forge ourselves. But we must be wary, they may have laid traps or concealed what they found." Bastila's voice was small, awed, almost swallowed in the large room

"Any idea what the Star Forge is, now?" There were so many ideas, but nothing was a certainty. And the idea that they were chasing shadows, smoke, probably going to risk their lives for something this ephemeral didn't sit well with her.

"I...don't know, but Revan and Malak were very interested in finding it. It must be a tool of some type. Or maybe a weapon. Perhaps the Council can tell us more. But I think this map may be the key to finding the Star Forge, whatever it is. See this world here? This looks like Korriban, a Sith world. And if that's Korriban,...then this is Kashyyyk. And Tatooine...and here's Manaan. But there are pieces missing; incomplete hyperspace coordinates, corrupted data... but there doesn't seem to be anything indicating where the Star Forge itself might be."

"Perhaps those worlds have more clues?" They had to. Somehow, somewhere, Revan and Malak had made sense out of this. And had fallen doing so...

"I was thinking that, too. This map can't take us to the Star Forge, but I know that Revan and Malak visited Korriban at least once. Perhaps they discovered something more there. They may have found something on each of the other worlds that completed this map. Maybe if we find all of the places, they will lead us to the Star Forge...and some way to destroy it. We must inform the Council of what we have discovered. They must decide our next course of action, although I suspect our task has just begun." Bastila sighed, "Let's go, Sarah. Get you back to Carth while I make this report."


	37. Chapter 37

Carth had all of the vents of the Ebon Hawk wide open, every hatch ajar, Mission trailing him as he aired out the ship and gave her a complete inspection. One was to stir out the funk that every ship gained after awhile, the other was to find the inevitable contraband and make note of the repairs and upgrades she'd been subjected to. He already knew she had a lot more punch than a stock Dynamic should have. Every time he tried to tell himself that his time with her was going to be temporary, his gut told him otherwise. No, his time entrusting his life, entrusting Sarah's life, to this ship was far from done. Everything in him told him to familiarize himself with every small detail, to settle in for the long haul. And if there was indeed going to be a long haul, then he needed to attend to the sleeping arrangements. He ran a tight ship, a clean ship, used to a military schedule and upkeep. The Hawk fell brutally short of that bottom line, and she was an affront to his sensibilities. And Mission was eager to help, almost underfoot the whole time, talking nonstop, her words a flow behind him. He smiled in spite of himself, wedging up deck plates and peering cautiously beneath them. Dustil had never been this talkative, this desperate for his attention, his approval.

"Anything?" She asked, and he shone his light deep into every crevice.

"Floor crap." He muttered in disgust. When was the last time someone had power washed the sub-floor? Ever? "Ship is filthy." That was more insulting than the small fortune in illegal narcotics they'd already discovered. He could, on some level, understand that. But this...this was an affront.

"So...what do we do about it? Forget about it? I mean, it's not our ship, right?"

She's my ship. He wasn't certain why he felt that way, but he did. And she was the first that truly raised that reaction...everything before her had belonged to the Navy. He'd been a pilot. He'd been a captain. But he'd never been an owner. "We lift the plates. All of them." Time to see just how willing and eager Mission actually was to do some truly dirty work.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`

There were deck plates propped up in a pile in the Hawk's shadow, and Sarah stared at the chaos dubiously. "What the...?" She marveled, feeling Canderous come up behind her.

"Flyboy has been taking her down to the studs since you left." Surely he has to know it's not his, right?"

No. I don't even know that it's not his. Mine. Ours. "I have a feeling that it is. We'll arrange to buy you out..."

"Hmmmm. They're not sending him back to the Navy?"

No. He stays with me. And we go after the Star Forge. Sarah didn't need to hear that from the Council. She just knew it. Now that they had some clue, somewhere to start, a Dynamic class freighter would be much more suitable than a military vessel. "No. I'm sure they're not."

"Hmmmm." He repeated, and she stared at him. "So. I've got one of the Republic's best pilots. Their main ace in the hole...Bastila. Bastila's amnesiac Jedi keeper. A wookiee. And the kid who isn't going to leave any of them alone...going somewhere interesting. Room for a gun in this mess?"

"Yes." Yes, he was supposed to be here. Just as much as she was. As Bastila was. As Carth was. Even Mission and Zaalbar. None of this was random. Things had just fallen into place. "He hasn't grounded her, has he?" With a place to go and little time to get things done in, if Carth had gone overboard with his sudden spree...

"Nah. It'd take an hour to put her completely back together again. Less than ten minutes in an emergency...you'd be walking on the sub-floor, but she'd be space-worthy. He's a cautious one." That held both approval and condemnation, Mandalorians were not known for their caution, but that sort of caution kept those around Carth alive. Always a plus, and something that Sarah valued.

"You like him. A lot."

"I do, why?"

"Because he and Mission are getting along famously. Wondering if you were in the mood for a family, that's all." His voice was even...but then, a person's willingness to adopt, to raise a child as one of their own was a virtue among the Mandalorians. It was a part of their culture, their society...their clans. Carth's immediate response to Mission was bound to raise him up in the Mandalorian's eyes...not that she even remotely thought that had even crossed Carth's mind. He was simply doing the right thing.

"She grows on me." She finally admitted, and the older man chuckled in reply.

"Then be there for them. Both. Clan, family, that is never something you'll regret. Now that you have the chance for them..." His eyes darkened slightly, turning towards the enclave. "There is something twisted in a group that denies a person that, Sarah." His lips twisted, then he sniffed the air. "You smell burnt."

"Droids. With flamethrowers."

"That explains it." He answered blandly, waving her towards the ship.

The air was thick with dust, and deep in the interior, she heard music. Carth and Mission were in the main bay, they had the music up extremely loudly, all of the deck plates were moved, and Carth was manning a power blower while Mission was re-affixing plates over the newly cleaned areas. He was bare to his waist, utterly, completely filthy, his hair sticking up madly, and he looked damned good.

`.`.``.`.`.`.`.

The weight of her stare finally permeated Carth's perceptions, and he glanced behind him. She was back... and... He switched off the power blower in concern, clicking the remote at the sound system. "What?" Mission demanded, then followed his eyes. "Sarah!" She greeted joyously, then frowned. "What the hell happened to you? Those robes were new, two days ago."

"Droids. With flamethrowers." Sarah replied with a half smile. "Cleaning house?"

"She's filthy." He laughed, waving dust around in proof. "I refuse to be called the pilot of a ship in this condition. And... Somehow, I think we're leaving in her."

"We probably are, yes."

He nodded, dropping the nozzle and pulling the particle mask from his face. "Any idea how long we have? It'll take about half an hour to get things back the way they should be."

"Bastila's in with the Council right now. We'll need to resupply, someplace with more...stuff...than Dantooine. Find anything interesting?"

"Besides the dust, grime, fasteners, loose credits, and assorted small tools? A fortune in drugs. Some guns." That wasn't all, but now was not the time...or the place... for the oddity he'd dug out of the pipe bundle crevice. Not in front of Mission's prying eyes. Not while he was this filthy. He was just certain it was meant to be Sarah's. And certain he was meant to give it to her.

"No surprise there. She was an Exchange ship, a little surprised that was all you've found."

"That's all there is. I've been up one side of her and down the other, Sarah. Except for the sub-floor dust bunnies, she's clean. And we're working on those right now." He frowned slightly, and she moved closer. He could smell burned fibers over the dust, but she looked fine. Better than fine, great, she wore a shit eating grin and her eyes were filled with a promise. And an acceptance when she glanced between him and Mission.

"Carth. She's yours, if that's what has you worried."

"Good. Good. Go check out the cargo bay. I think you'll approve." It had been easy enough to affix the dividing walls into their runners set at intervals in the floor, ceiling and bulkhead walls. Freighters often took on passengers in a pinch, and the structure was there to throw up a couple of fast cabins. It had been easy to get the cabin they wanted. Needed. It hadn't even been that difficult to get a bed large enough for the two of them to share comfortably. It took up most of the space, but that was all they needed. It wasn't handy to the heads, but it was private. She stared at him for a moment, and headed in that direction, the tattered, charred hem of her robes flowing around her. He gave her a few moments head start before going that way himself, leaving Mission in the main bay.

Sarah stood in the cabin, a wide grin on her face. "You did this?" She asked, and he shrugged, leaning against the wall

"Mission helped. How did it go? Did you find what you and Bastila were looking for? Where Revan and Malak went?" He wasn't certain what he wanted her answer to be. No meant they weren't going there, and she'd be safe...for a while. Until they crumbled. Yes meant they were going there, and had somewhat of a chance to hold off what had seemed like an inevitable defeat. At least, that's how he understood it.

"Yes."

And by the tone of her voice, she agreed with his unspoken fears. "So where are we going?" He asked softly. He wasn't afraid...for himself. Well, no...that was a lie. He was just more afraid for her. Things had finally started to look up again, and now, this.

"I'm not sure yet. I mean, I know where...except that it's not a single where. Not sure which one we go to first..." She turned suddenly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Hey there, sister. I stink." He teased, but rested his hand against the back of her head. It wasn't as if she was spotlessly pristine herself.

"I don't care." She muttered, relaxing in his embrace. "I stink, too." It was so easy to just stand there, awash in contentment.

"You know, when I said I hadn't found anything interesting, that wasn't quite so. Don't take this the wrong way, okay?" She lifted puzzled gray eyes to his face, and he dug in the depths of his pocket until he found it, and warily held it out to her. It was a ring, but honestly he hadn't even had the chance to take a good look at it. For some reason, he'd immediately hidden it from Mission... "It probably doesn't even fit you." He finished awkwardly.

She studied it, blew on it, and held it up to the light. There was something in her expression, she had that 'something smells bad' look again, and he wished he could take it back, make her forget all about it. "It's beautiful, Carth." She admitted, testing it on her fingers. "And it fits like it was made for me. But I'm not sure you want me to wear this." She held her hand up, and he was completely unsurprised to see exactly which finger it fit, like it was made for her.

"I do." He sighed, shaking his head and giving her a rueful smile. "I knew when I saw it that it was yours, Sarah. And that I was supposed to give it to you. You have it now."

"Do you ever get the impression that we're being fucked with? Like there are things going on, just out of sight? I know you're..."

"Sometimes. But hey, I guess if the universe, if the Force, if fate, whatever, gives my girl a ring, who am I to complain about it? While I don't know if that was what I would have bought for you, given the chance, it's still something. And it looked nice, what I saw of it. Kind of grubby for having lived in the pipe bundle for...however long it was there." It could have been there longer than Carth had been alive...the Hawk was not a new vessel by any stretch of the imagination. "So, you said there were a few places you think we're going?" He'd prefer a heads up, time to plot a way if they were out of the way places. And they had to be...

"Tatooine, Kashyyyk, Manaan...and Korriban."

His stomach dropped. Korriban? That was suicide. There was no way he'd ever consider taking Sarah there. Taking himself there. Taking Bastila there. Mission.

"Am I your girl?" She was staring at the ring, her expression uncertain. "You know I've done something wrong, right? With you? I didn't mean to, and I'm sorry. I really am..." It was disconcerting to see her like this, and Carth was certain he didn't like it. It was uncomfortable, distressing.

"Hey. I'm pretty sure I know what you're talking about, and I'm not complaining. I told you before, I want to see how far we can go with this. I want to be open to the idea. Take the ring. Consider it a gift from the ship, if you want to, but yes. You are my girl, if you'd be willing for that. But I should go help Mission, finish what I started..."

"How long is that going to take, about?"

"Eh. Less than an hour, why?"

She grinned, and a weight was lifted from him. That was the Sarah he was used to, the Sarah he was comfortable with. "Because you're going to need someone to scrub your back, of course." She laughed, striding away from him. He watched her go, before sighing, shaking his head, and returning to the main bay to finish the job of scrubbing his ship down.


	38. Chapter 38

"Well?" Sarah asked, feeling Bastila come up behind her. She'd shed the stinking, charred over robe, but was still wearing her under clothes, waiting for stinky Carth to come join her. Not just a shower here, no, she had access to a deep, hot bathing pool...and she intended to share it with him.

"I think you already know." Bastila stated, sitting on the bench next to the pool. "But they want you to choose the order we visit them in. In fact, they want you to make the decisions."

Lovely. Just fantastic. "Have they forgotten that I have forgotten?" She asked, sitting beside the pool and running her fingers through the water. But then, neither one of them was exactly a good candidate to lead this... surely there had to be someone better? Now that they knew where? But they didn't, really. They knew worlds. Four of them. Huge expanses of places, and she'd seen one of the star maps. It was relatively tiny. Somehow, Revan had found them without relying on well, Revan, and Sarah would love to know how. But they had no other choice but to hope that the visions would keep coming, that Bastila would be able to see them clearly, and that they'd be able to find the next one the same way as they had discovered the first.

"No. They feel that Carth will not follow me any more. That Canderous will never follow me. That you will not remain willing to follow me when your instincts rise. You know that you were the knight, while I am the padawan. And Mission, Zaalbar...their bond is to you and Carth. You are the one that they will follow, as will I. They're no longer willing to ask for military support, except to keep Carth with us. The loss of the Endar Spire did not sit well with the Navy, with Coruscant. Clearing Carth of any blame in that was right, necessary, but that laid the blame on us...the Council here. It took everything we had to hold onto Carth, they want him back."

No. We are doomed to fail if...

"Exactly." Bastila waved her hand as if Sarah had spoken aloud, but then, she may as well have. "Sarah... as much as it pains me, the Enclave here, the Council here is coming under investigation from the Temple on Coruscant. We will be getting no more support than what we have. There will be no other Jedi to lead this...one with your age and experience, but with their memories intact. In fact, if we do not leave Dantooine soon, we may be caught up in the investigation ourselves and be prevented from leaving here."

That cannot happen.

"This is the enclave that trained me. You. I deserve to know why there's an investigation..."

"And this is the enclave that trained Exar Kun. Meetra Surik. Revan. And Malak. Then we lost the Endar Spire and her crew on a task that the High Council was less than convinced of from the beginning. Our track record has become disturbing, Sarah."

"So we run?"

Absolutely.

"Do you believe that we're on the right path? That this is the way to find the Star Forge? And that, whatever it is, it is vital to the Sith war effort?"

Absolutely.

Sarah sighed in disgust. If she could only remember...

"Stop it. You'll just make yourself dizzy and Carth isn't here to catch you."

"You'll catch me." Sarah noted, and Bastila raised a brow dubiously. "You'd let me drown? Hardly. Force bond and all." She covered her face with her hands, taking a deep breath. It just got deeper...every step of the way. Now, her enclave was under investigation? The last thing in the world she needed, wanted, was an examination by the Temple... "What?" She demanded. Something had attracted Bastila's attention, squarely on her.

"Ring?" There was a wealth of something in that single word question. Amazement, shock, confusion. "You didn't have that earlier."

"Carth gave it to me this afternoon." Maybe if she just played it cool, acted like it was nothing, then Bastila would accept it. Anyway, the ring was still encrusted with filth and hardly looked impressive. "He found it while cleaning the Hawk." There. How mundane that was.

"Ah." She waited for the lecture, but Bastila simply nodded.

"Can I see it?"

"I haven't even really seen it myself. It's pretty gunky. Came out of the sub-floor pipe bundle." But she slid it from her finger...although it was reluctant to let go...and passed it to Bastila.

"He could have at least cleaned it first." She chuckled, passing it back, and Sarah studied it. It was difficult to even grasp what it was, what it looked like...yet Carth had been pretty willing to label it as 'nice looking'. And she'd been more than willing to call it 'beautiful', and mean it. Odd. She slid it back on, and it fit perfectly, just like it should. She dipped her hand back in the water, and let it stay there... falling into a less anxious conversation with Bastila while she waited for Carth.

He arrived a little later than he'd promised, still utterly filthy, and Bastila stood quickly. "I'll be going now." She said, unnecessarily, and quickly backed out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

"We make her nervous." He sighed, a tinge of laughter lurking in the syllables. "Nice pool." He shrugged out of the shirt he'd apparently put on just to get here, followed by the rest of his clothing, and he slid in with a contented purr. "Come on in. The water's fine." He breathed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

She undressed, both comforted and depressed that he didn't open his eyes to watch. He was at ease with his nudity, hers, her proximity, her presence. He didn't look until her pause grew long, as she cataloged and inspected the myriad small injuries that she'd brought back with her.

"You okay?" He asked, and she nodded, sitting on the edge and slipping into the warm water. "What did Bastila want? She felt like she brought bad news..."

"Politics. Jedi politics. Oh, you should probably know that the Council here has taken responsibility for the loss of the Endar Spire. Sounds like the admiralty may be trying to get you back..." And how exactly did he feel about that one? It was so easy to just assume that he wanted to stay with her, to pilot the Ebon Hawk and go chasing Star Forges.

She could feel the sudden swirl of the Force around him, normally it flowed smoothly around him, calm and strong. But occasionally it snagged, caught, eddied in agitation...in those split moments when his slight force sensitivity acted on him. "No, Sarah. This is vital." He breathed. "You. Me. This. All of it. I am where I am supposed to be. But Bastila still felt on edge. Why?"

"The High Council on Coruscant has some issues with how this has been handled. Bastila hinted that the Council here may not be in charge of this for very much longer... this enclave is beginning to gain quite the reputation for its production of dark sided masters...Revan, Malak."

He grumbled, opening his eyes and fixing his attention on her. "Those two were trained here? To think, I used to look up to them as the best that humanity had to offer. Now I'd like nothing more than to put a blaster to both of their heads. Although I suppose that only Malak is left, isn't he? Turned on his own master, not that Revan didn't have it coming. Typical for their kind, I guess." He frowned, an edge of sadness in his eyes. "I told you I'd met Malak before, with the Fleet. I was impressed by him then. He and Revan, they were there for every major engagement during the Mandalorian War, they saved us. But I guess that just shows how much the dark side can change someone."

"Hmmm." She took the soap from the dish and began to scrub off dirt, soot, the stink of sweat and combat from her skin, exposing more beautiful bruises as she did so. "Do you have any clue why they turned? None of the masters here want to even touch the subject." Of course, if they really were producing a fine line of dark sided masters from here, that was probably a touchy subject.

"No. When they left after the Mandalorian Wars ended, they were Jedi. When they returned, they were something else. They came back with that Fleet, and day after day, our forces dwindle. I like to think that they didn't get away with it, though. Revan is dead, and Malak hasn't won. The dark side won't help him."

"What do you know about the dark side?" Sarah herself barely grasped it now... Dantooine's masters changed the subject every time it was even hinted at. She remembered nothing of it from her training. Some information, any information, would be useful. It was like a shadow that hung over everything, and the idea of that just made her feel even more incompetent. How was she supposed to face it when she didn't even get a good look at it? Or was that the trick of it all?

"I...uh...used to think it was a fancy name for something that I see everyday. Corruption is everywhere. People are greedy and stupid and do horrible things. I'm starting to think it's something different for the Jedi, however. That there's this evil watching them, waiting for its chance. I've been watching you. You have this...uh...incredible darkness within you. Some of the things you do disturb me. But it's not just you. It's Bastila. She's so...intense. I don't pretend to know much about the force, but I know evil."

The air in the room seemed suddenly heavy, more than just the weight of the warm humidity from the pool, and Sarah stared at him. "You think Bastila and I are evil?"

"Ah, no." He gave her an endearing half smile, "Of course not. All I'm saying is that when you have so much power, the stakes are higher. I can only imagine the conflict that goes on inside of you. Neither you nor Bastila are fully trained and aware of how to handle your power. I'm just concerned at what might come. I need..." He reached out and squeezed her knee. "I need you both to be careful, okay?"

"Okay." She reached out and rested her fingertips over his heart. "I'll be careful."

Don't make him promises you can't keep.

"So. The admiralty may want me back, and the High Council is suspicious of what this Enclave is churning out. It sounds like we should leave quickly, if we're going to have the opportunity to leave at all."

"Agreed." She'd prefer to not have to openly defy any sort of orders, like ones from the High Council. Somehow she doubted if they'd be quite as willing to get a lightsaber in her hand and get her out of the door as quickly as the masters here at Dantooine had been. In fact, she had an odd reluctance to deal with the Temple at all, it felt bad, like something she'd never get out of, never get away from. Definitely something to be avoided. And he shouldn't have to defy orders from the admiralty, either. He stood to lose so much if that happened...

"Where are we headed?" He asked, pressing her fingers closer... the edge of his wedding rings and dog tags hard against them, the thud of his heartbeat vibrating her fingertips.

"Tatooine." She said, slipping under the water and scrubbing her fingers through her hair. Now that her mind was made up, it was easy to start going through the preparations. He'd tended to the ship, but they needed real supplies. Tatooine. Kashyyyk. Manaan. Korriban... None of them was a truly viable resupply point.

She came up for air. He'd dunked himself, and she waited for him to reappear. "Where do you want to supply from?"

"With an unregistered freighter? Ord Mantell, probably. There's enough of an underbelly there to get lost in, yet enough trade there to get whatever we'd need." He scrubbed his hair, obviously lost in thought...and she knew he was plotting courses in his mind, weighing his options. He would be used to doing things on the up and up, he was a Republic naval captain, not a tramp driver. "Here." He handed her the soap. "You promised to scrub my back."

Yes, yes she had. She soaped her hands and ran them over his back when he turned it to her. He had lost a little weight since this had gotten started, the grooves that marked his shoulder blades were more pronounced. It looked good. Damn...damn...good.

"Later." He chuckled as if she'd said it aloud. "I thought we'd agreed to pick up the pace and get the hell out of here."

"Grrrrh. I'm at least going to finish this bath before you get me back on that ship."

It was luxury, but Sarah knew he was correct. If what Bastila had hinted at was true, the sooner they left Dantooine...the better. She finally pulled herself from the water, wrapped herself up in a towel. He followed suit, and they slipped silently back into their temporary room here. Bastila had come through, leaving another set of clothing for Sarah. More...robes.

"She doesn't get that those stand out, does she?" Carth asked, shaking his head as he slid into a fresh pair of pants. "And I've noticed that she doesn't wear them."

Sarah laughed outright. No, Bastila did not. Oddly, for someone so damned uptight, she seemed to favor an outfit almost as skin tight and revealing as Sarah's racing set was. Of course Carth had noticed...there was so much to notice. She couldn't blame him for seeing the obvious.

"It does seem ironic." She agreed, dressing in the under garments, but throwing the robe over her shoulder. "That the one who remembers being a Jedi doesn't dress like one, but wants me, the one who doesn't...to. Or maybe it's all they have to give away around here." Which was a distinct possibility. But he was right, nothing attracted attention quite like a Jedi. And nothing screamed Jedi more than the robes.

"Let's go let the crew know we're getting ready to leave."


	39. Chapter 39

Ord Mantell. It wasn't Bastila's first choice for a resupply run, but Carth was correct. It made the most sense, from what he knew. Bastila, however, would prefer to keep Revan off of major inhabited worlds. She could be recognized. Something could spur an unfortunate memory. Thankfully, Revan had done most of her training and service out of the Dantooine enclave. Hopefully the chances of her running into someone who had known her were slim... They could blow it all, right here. The thought of having an aware Revan, loose on Ord Mantell, made her head spin. She stared at Revan, watching the older woman walk down the street with Mission at her side. Something subtle had changed between those two, and Bastila sighed. As if having Onasi attached to her wasn't bad enough, Revan had slid into a position of trust and authority over a child. She'd gained a lifedebt from a wookiee. Always, always, Revan built these bonds around her, attracted comrades, companions, friends and followers. People willing to commit questionable acts, atrocities, willing to die....for her. She would need them, this path was dangerous...but still, Bastila mourned. It had not gone well for Revan's previous inner circle, all either dead, fallen, or in exile, and there was little reason to believe this time would be different. 

“Bastila. Stop thinking so hard.” Revan joked, holding out a dessert towards Bastila. “It's a beautiful day. Enjoy.” 

Enjoy, while every fiber of her being was just waiting for someone to recognize Revan. For Revan to recognize someone from her past, to see something that triggered the cascading avalanche of her memories...

Except that Revan couldn't look less like Revan right now if she really tried to. Her hair was longer than Bastila had ever seen it, swept gracefully back from her forehead, falling from an ornamental clasp at the back. She wore civilian clothes, chosen not by her, but by a man ready, willing and able to see her as a lovely woman. She looked just like... Bastila took the dessert from her, happy to have something to focus on. She looked like the beloved wife of a Republic officer should. Only the sharpest eyes would catch the butt end of the lightsaber hilt protruding from her pocket, and it would take a Jedi to identify it as what it was. The gloriously over the top decoration made it appear to be some odd something...a case for something, a baton, an umbrella handle. Nothing screamed lightsaber. Nothing at all about her even whispered Jedi. 

“What are we here for?” Bastila asked, eating. Other than a 'show Mission someplace a little more wholesome than Taris' tour, she didn't understand why Revan had decided to leave the docks, leave the Hawk, leave Carth, and come meandering here. 

“Bedding, mostly. Some things for the galley. If we're crewing up, and intending on spending actual time on the Hawk, may as well make it comfortable. Her previous owners didn't seem to be really invested in cleanliness and comfort, and after putting in the cabin... well, I want stuff. You didn't have to come.” 

Oh, yes she did. Bastila wasn't going to leave Revan to roam Ord Mantell without a keeper. “So what's our first stop?” She asked, “Not here, but...” She gestured vaguely upwards. 

“Tatooine. We're going to Tatooine, first.” Revan peered up in the direction that Bastila had gestured in, studying the pink tinged sky as if it held answers to questions only she knew to ask. And that was probably true... 

“Hey, look. A jeweler.” Something a little more mundane to set her mind to. Revan and Mission gave her identical, confused stares. “You can get that ring cleaned.” She ended lamely, and Revan tilted her head, considering the storefront, before nodding. 

“Right.” She agreed, heading towards it and stepping inside. Bastila trailed her, much more comfortable to be in a small, quiet shop than out in the press of people navigating the Trader's Quarter. Mission seemed happy to admire the wares displayed, her eyes wide... 

“Ah.” The shopkeeper, an older human male, short and wide, came out from the back. “Can I help you ladies?” 

“I have a ring I need to have cleaned, possibly repaired. And I'd like to know something about it, if you can.” Revan pulled it from her finger, and Bastila was not blind to the fact that it didn't want to let go. She could sense it much like any minor force artifact, she sensed no dark side to it, but it was more than a simple ring fallen into the sub flooring and recovered years, decades later. 

“Oh, my.” The jeweler cringed slightly, holding it up to the light. “I'll see what I can do. Feel free to look around, or wait in the waiting room... it'll only be a few minutes.” 

He returned, as promised, and held out a velvet covered tray to Revan. “There you go. It doesn't need any repairs, just a really good clean. An interesting piece, I'd have to say, uncommon craftsmanship, rare materials. Lovely. Main stone is a cabochon shadow opal, from Korriban. Flanked by two deep water Manaan pearls. The accent stones are Wroshyr amber and smaller Manaan pearls.” Bastila's stomach went into a slow free fall. Korriban. Manaan. Kashyyyk. Dantooine. Tatooine. Too much of a coincidence... and by Revan's sudden stare, she must be following the same thought. 

“Setting is sunsgold and argentium, hand carved. I'd say it was crafted on Coruscant, judging by its markings, but it's old.” 

“Thank you.” Revan replied softly, claiming the ring from the tray and studying it for a long moment before sliding it back on. “How much do I owe you?” 

Korriban. Manaan. Kashyyyk. Sunsgold was an export from Tatooine, argentium an export from Dantooine. It was too, too much to simply wave away. Carth had given Revan a ring crafted from the very ground, the very life, of the worlds that they were headed for, a ring that he'd found 'lost' under the Ebon Hawk's flooring. 

Revan paid the man, and they stepped back out onto the street, much of her shining mood worn away. “That...stinks.” She finally breathed, and Bastila rested a hand on her shoulder, feeling the waft of disappointment that contact with Revan gave her. 

“It's a force artifact, Sarah. But I don't sense anything truly dark sided about it...it could just be a gift. It could have honestly been a gift to Carth as well. He worked for it, he found it. For both of you, together, as a couple. Don't make it less, Sarah. You'll just hurt him. Let me see it.” 

She extended her hand, and Bastila got her first good look at the artifact. Any doubts fled, it was awash with the faint tendrils of the Force clinging to it. The center stone was sizable, and it was the only part of it that even hinted at dark side power...it had been mined from Korriban, and that was inescapable. A dark stone, with fire in its depths. Two brightly nacreous gray pearls flanked it, gleaming in the sunlight. One side of the setting was golden, set with two small amber stones, butted up against the one pearl. The other side was shaded silver, set with two small pearls, butted up against the opposite pearl. It reeked of subtle power, undeniable symbolism. It belonged to Revan, a fitting gift from her newest consort... 

“Carth gave that to you?” Mission demanded, breaking the mood like a hammer against thin ice. “Wow. So what are we doing, exactly? Why are we going to Tatooine?” 

“Not in public. Later.” Sarah shut it down, and obviously shook off her misgivings about the ring. “Now, we get what we came here for, because it's going to be awhile before we come up for air again.”

If we ever do. But Revan was correct, this was their last reprieve before they stepped onto the path that had taken her and Malak down the last time she'd walked it. And there was no stepping away from it this time. 

 

“Carth! Carth!” He looked up from studying the manifest, he'd been deep in thought, going over what they'd need for...well, however long this was going to take. It hadn't taken Sarah and Bastila long to find the star map on Dantooine, if it was that easy, at least three of the four remaining worlds could be done in days. But he doubted easy...and there was no way he'd ever consider going to Korriban to be a cake walk. So he was padding his estimates, going well beyond the optimistic. 

“Afternoon, Mission.” She looked so happy, her eyes gleamed. She'd been getting along with Sarah so much better recently...

“Look what Sarah bought for me! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in all of your life?!?” She held up a black case, and he warily opened it. A fully stocked expert's slicing kit, top of the line, indeed beautiful. But if they were going to be relying on Mission's talents, then she needed the equipment to make it possible. 

“Well, yes, I have.” He chuckled, handing it back to her. “My first wife. Sarah. You. But I must admit that I've never seen a slicing kit that fine before. Are they almost done shopping yet?” Sarah had left with a purpose, and he was pretty certain that purpose was spending money. But she'd been willing to take Mission with her, and Bastila. 

“Yeah, they're not far behind. We went to all sorts of stores, Carth, amazing stores. And a jeweler. And a place that does nothing but make desserts. Ord Mantell is fantastic, nothing like Taris at all! Nobody looked at me like I didn't belong. Nobody called me any names. The guy in the jewelry store called us ladies. He meant me, too.”

“Jeweler?” Jedi were not known for their love of ornamentation, their vanity. But Sarah really didn't seem to appreciate that prohibition, she'd left that morning looking quite nice, and not at all like a Jedi. 

“To clean the ring you gave to Sarah.”

Oh, great. For all he knew it was just a cheap piece of trash, lost and never missed. Well, it wasn't as if he'd tried to make it seem like anything more than what it was. “Ah. What did it turn out to be?”

“He was impressed.” She grinned at him, easing the case from his grasp and clutching it to her chest. “Bastila said it was some sort of Force artifact, when Sarah seemed a little upset by something the jeweler said. Don't ask me...” He knew he looked concerned, but Mission only shrugged. “Jeweler used all sorts of expensive kind of words. Uncommon. Rare. Lovely. But Sarah and Bastila seemed a little...weirded out.”

Weirded out? If he'd known it was going to be such an issue, he'd have just kept it. No. It belongs to Sarah. I was supposed to find it. I was supposed to give it to her. She needs to have it. The persistence of it all confused him. Somehow, deep in his heart, he had been happy to see it. Finally, he had a gift to give her, and he'd known that was it was, immediately. Otherwise, he was lost. A Force artifact? What in the hell did that mean, anyway? 

“Hey.” He greeted when Bastila and Sarah appeared, and if they'd been disturbed earlier, they showed little sign of it then. They were dragging bags, but seemed cheery enough, laughing...attracting attention as only a couple of beautiful women in a good mood could manage. He still had Mission, bubbling over with enthusiasm, standing next to him, and he suddenly recalled Sarah's comment on Taris about his harem. Somehow, he'd gotten himself very closely surrounded by females...each of them attractive in their own way. 

He took one of the bags from Sarah...it was bulky, but light... it contained pillows, of all things. “Was thinking.” He said, falling into step behind her. “Ord Mantell has some pretty decent restaurants. How about dinner? Before we leave?” 

“That would be wonderful, Carth.” She smiled, “I'd love it.” 

 

It had been so long since he'd brought anybody to a restaurant, he realized, perusing his menu thoughtfully. He'd tended to avoid them altogether since losing Morgana, usually content to eat alone, or with crew members. “So what's the deal with the ring?” He finally got the nerve up to ask. “Mission said you and Bastila were 'weirded out' by whatever it was that the jeweler said to you. If there's a problem with it...” He couldn't quite bring himself to suggest getting rid of it. Stupid...stupid...

“It's Force shit.” She stated, meeting his eyes over her menu. “Things that get to be too coincidental to still be coincidental and become that 'the Force is in motion with you' moment. It may be needed. It may stand for something. It probably would just return. But the chances of you randomly finding a random ring crafted only from materials only found on each of the star map worlds which randomly fits me is astronomical.” 

“Ah, yeah.” Put that way... 

“The Force puts items in places all of the time. Lightsaber crystals, ma...” She went pale, her eyes utterly blank for a horribly long moment and Carth half stood, unwilling to draw too much attention, but ready to catch her if she slid into unconsciousness. She suddenly blinked, like a droid coming back online. “Shit.” She muttered. “I...don't remember what I was saying, Carth.” 

“It's not a big deal.” He soothed, warily sitting back in his seat. “Do we have everything we need?” 

“I think so. Been over the list in my mind several times. I think we're as good as we're going to get.” 

“Agreed. It just feels like...”

“There's no coming back until we're done.” 

That. Exactly.


	40. Chapter 40

Sarah's eyes snapped open. She had been blissfully asleep, curled next to Carth in the cool, dark, quiet cabin...and then she was awake. Just like that. He was deeply asleep next to her, his breathing measured, and she rested the palm of her hand against his back. He made a soft, contented noise under his breath, but did not stir. She carefully left the bed, tucking the blankets around him and threw on a robe, stepping out into the cargo bay, and from there, into the main part of the ship. Bastila was wide awake, sitting in the copilot's seat, her gaze entranced by the hyperspace flume visible through the view-screen. “I know.” She said, before Sarah managed a syllable. “You saw the next star map in your dream. The Tatooine one. None of the other planets match what you showed me.” 

“A large cave, the lair of some sort of animal. Filled with debris, remains... sand.” Like sand was going to be a useful point of reference. This was Tatooine, after all. She sat in Carth's chair, curling up with her head on the armrest, letting her mind, her thoughts, drift. It was easier closer to Bastila, and even clearer when the younger woman touched her head. 

“No. Not a cave. A room.” Bastila breathed. “Like some sort of a bay. The opening is too regular to be natural. Probably a krayt dragon den, there's not much else on Tatooine that would lair like that. But it's not a lot to go on, much less than we saw of the Dantooine temple.” 

Sarah sighed, closing her eyes. “Revan managed to find the star map fragments without having, well, Revan's, memories. Somehow. It's not impossible. A buried bay means it could be yet another temple, and the last one had a feeling about it.”

Yes, it had. And of course Revan and Malak had found it on their own. They couldn't lose sight of that truth, even if the visions were fickle, they were more than Revan had had. There was more to finding the other maps than the visions. 

“True.” Bastila agreed, soothingly. 

“Of course, Revan and Malak were experienced, older, had their memories...” They were, from what Sarah understood, the pinnacle of Jedi produced in this generation. Bastila was a padawan, talented, but young and often overwhelmed. And Sarah presumably had years, decades, of experience...that she didn't remember. In fact, she was probably a contemporary to Revan and Malak, trained out of the same Enclave. She had followed them to war...she had disobeyed her masters to do so. 

The worn pattern of the pilot's seat cover wavered before her eyes, the headache was immediate and debilitating. She could feel Bastila get up, move away for a long moment and then return. She was wrapped up, first in a warm blanket, and then in Bastila's arms. 

 

Sarah was gone when Carth woke up. He frowned, dressing quickly...he had not overslept. In fact, he'd woken early. Her side of the bed was chill, she had been gone a long time. She wasn't in the main bay, wasn't in the galley, but Canderous was, preparing his breakfast.

“They're in the cockpit, been there for a long while.” The Mandalorian stated, shrugging. “Both asleep.” 

Asleep? Why would Sarah leave their bed to go sleep in the cockpit? Had something gone wrong? Had a glimmer in the Force told her it was best to be there? If so, why hadn't she woken him? If the Ebon Hawk needed a pilot, he was the obvious choice. 

He moved through into the cockpit, his eyes habitually glancing at the readouts first. Everything looked good, no concerns there. Bastila was asleep in the co-pilot's seat, it had been rocked back to a near horizontal surface. The pilot's seat was also rocked back, Sarah was huddled there like a child, her face buried in the seat and the line of her upper arm. 

Bastila stirred, opened her eyes. “Morning, Carth.” She breathed, sitting up slowly. 

“Rough night?” He asked, squatting next to the pilot's seat, his seat, and peering at Sarah. She was not going to be waking up any time soon, he was familiar enough now with how she slept to judge that. She had crashed...

“She had the next vision, of the site on Tatooine. Then she tried to push on her memory wall again, and she shut down. You can probably pick her up and put her to bed again, she'll wake up if I try it.” 

“I don't like this.” He admitted, and Bastila sighed, shaking her head. 

“We spoke last night.” She said, standing and stretching. “The visions may not be as useful as we originally thought, especially now that we know the worlds we're going to. Revan found the fragments without them, so they're not an imperative. Perhaps we can work on shutting them down, closing that door to Revan's death in Sarah's mind. Work on finding the fragments the same way that Revan must have, through our connections with the Force. Sever Sarah from Revan, for once and for all...” She grimaced, “It's not implausible that at least some of Sarah's issues are from Revan's death. I feel that the attempt to keep that connection alive, to begin the journey to the Star Forge, is no longer as valid as it was in the beginning.” 

“Good. I'd prefer...” That she had nothing at all to do with this. That she had time to heal, recover. That she had the opportunity to regain everything that she could. “That she not have to carry that around. Bastila, I...”

“I know you do.” For just a moment, it felt like she carried the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. Before he even understood that he had done it, he'd wrapped his arms around her.

“Bastila. We'll make it.” He said, giving her one last supportive squeeze before releasing her. “We'll look back at this when it's over and it'll all be okay.”

Her answering stare was inscrutable for a long moment, before her eyes dropped to Sarah's huddled form. “Of course, Carth. Go take care of her, she needs you. She loves you.” 

“Right.” He managed to get his arms underneath Sarah and lifted her up into his arms. She was a dead weight again, and he pushed that particular memory away. She wasn't dying, she wasn't dead. She was simply sleeping. He carried her back through the ship, giving Canderous a sheepish half grin when the Mandalorian watched him pass by. He didn't know, and he didn't really want to know what the man thought. Sarah wasn't weak. And he wasn't weak for taking care of her when she needed it. He tucked her back into bed, added an extra blanket, and left her to sleep it off in silence. 

“What?” He asked grumpily, well aware that Canderous had said nothing at all, and that he was throwing out a preemptive attack...when there might not have even been an attack coming. 

“I said nothing.” The Mandalorian replied, “There is nothing to say. Your chosen one is injured...from combat. You are honored to care for her. I would think much less of you if you did not. One of the only true ways to judge a person is to watch how they care for their family. I am familiar with how you fought, and now I see this other side of you.” 

Carth's mouth went dry, but he sat across from Canderous and poured himself caf. “And the loss of my first family?” He didn't even know why he was asking. Why it mattered to him. This man had been an enemy, he shouldn't give a damn...

“Loss is one of the things we truly have in common... Mandalorians, outsiders. We lose our families, our loved ones. And they are everything that we hold dear, Onasi. But at the end of the path, you pull yourself out of the hole and make another family. Otherwise, you have admitted defeat to the loss, and in this case, the people who inflicted that loss on you. Avenge their deaths with your new partner, use that to cement your bond with your new family. And keep going, denying yourself a true life means that your enemies have beaten you. Defeat them with your new family, raise children to guard what you hold dear. Make your enemies pay. It's the only way.” 

Charming breakfast discussion; death, vengeance and mayhem. Carth smiled, taking a long swallow of his caf and closing his eyes, listening to the ship for a long moment. It was a happy ship, everything felt perfectly right. 

“Where are we going? And what are we doing... been kept out of the loop here.” 

“We're going to Tatooine.” There was no way to keep what they were doing away from Canderous, if Bastila and Sarah had brought him, then they intended to use him. “We're looking for maps, information that will tell us where...” He shrugged, both of the Jedi with him had made it clear they weren't entirely certain what they were after, exactly... “Something very important to the Sith is. Something we need to take out. Something that Revan and Malak found after the War.” 

“The Sith are worthy enemies.” 

Yes, yes they were. Carth would prefer that they weren't quite so worthy, but he knew better than to say it aloud. Thankfully, that was the moment that Mission made her appearance, trailing Zaalbar...loud, happy and joyous, sweeping away darkness as she came. 

 

“Tatooine, eh?” She demanded, sinking into the seat closest to Carth. She had always given Canderous a wide space, uncertain around him. “What will I be doing there? You guys do need me, right?” 

“Of course we need you, Mission.” Bastila appeared from the starboard dorm, looking a little less turned out than normal. It was a good look for her, her hair rumpled, her eyes sleepy, and Carth hurriedly chased his mind to safer thoughts. He was pretty much taken. He liked what he was pretty much taken by. And Bastila...no. She was too young. And she could be damned annoying...most of the time. “Maybe not on Tatooine, but that will just be our first stop. But all of that is Sarah's call.” 

And Carth heard relief and something else in that statement. It almost sounded like dread...

 

Someone had put her to bed, Sarah woke warm, content, and fully rested. The headache had passed, and she felt good. Better than she'd felt in a long time, at least there was some down time here. A breather, even though she knew she needed a whole hell of a lot more than that. Maybe when all of this was over, she could return to Coruscant...seek greater help...return to the Temple... 

Bad idea.

Of course it was. But why? That voice never gave the why, it only gave empty and confusing imperatives. She shook her head, dressed, and stepped outside. There were voices, Mission's carried loudly, Carth's laughter, Bastila, protesting something... They filled the passages of the Ebon Hawk, and it felt suddenly like home. 

“Hey, guys.” She greeted, and they all turned to glance at her. “How long until Tatooine?”

Carth tilted his head, as if the very air itself would answer him. “Seven hours, give or take.” He finally answered, half rising, and she waved him sit back down again. Give or take was good enough, for now. “Any clue as to what we're doing there, yet?” 

“Other than survive, find the next fragment and keep sand out of our orifices, nope.” 

“Somehow, this reminds me of something. If I think hard enough, I might remember the last time a Jedi told me to go someplace without a clue... No, wait, it's coming. Give it time. I seem to remember... Ow. Was that necessary?” He rubbed his shoulder, where she had lightly smacked him. 

“Yes.” She stated, sitting on his lap. 

“We can't all go running around in the sand looking for...well, whatever this thing actually looks like. Tatooine is a rough place, somebody's going to need to stay with the Hawk, for security, at all times.” 

“Agreed.” Without the Hawk, they'd be stuck. On Tatooine. And that was a hell she didn't want to consider. Also, the Hawk was still unregistered, and had last belonged to the Exchange. She could draw unwelcome attention, indeed. “I'd like to leave somebody who can fly her, with her. Just in case.” And that pretty much meant that she had just volunteered to leave Carth with her, minding the store. Somebody adult, responsible and able to care for the ship, willing to butt heads when the situation called for it, and careful enough to keep Mission out of trouble. She expected some flak for it, but he only nodded as if he'd been expecting it. And he truly was the best choice for the job. “No matter what, I have to go. Bastila must, as well. Probably Canderous, for fire support.” And for the fact that the quickest way to get on his bad side was to leave him here, away from the fight, away from the glory, babysitting a ship and a teenager that wasn't of his clan. 

“Okay.” Carth said, apparently at ease with the idea of being left with the ship. Of course, that was undoubtedly what the majority of his career had entailed, and he was probably wise enough to know that it was going to be a whole lot more comfortable on the Ebon Hawk than wandering around with her on Tatooine. “I'll hold down the fort with Mission and Zaalbar.” 

“But...” Mission began, but silenced when Carth glanced at her. “I kinda wanted to see Tatooine.” She whispered when he glanced away again. Sarah didn't think that Carth had overheard her, but Sarah had, and by the slight amusement on the Mandalorian's face, Canderous had. 

“I doubt if we're headed straight out into the dunes, right?” Canderous asked, and Sarah nodded in agreement. There would probably be paperwork, there was always paperwork...especially on a Czerka world. That corporation lived on it, and while she thought she could easily avoid it, having the freighter made things a little more difficult. She'd prefer to not have to make the 'Jedi were here messing with peoples' minds' waves here, especially so early in their journey. Things were only going to get worse, not better. “Then you and Flyboy take Mission with you to press all the buttons that Czerka is going to want you to, get whatever made up shit permits, and I'll watch the ship for that. I've seen Tatooine, and I doubt if it's gotten any more fascinating in my absence.” 

 

_______________________________________________________________  
After the benign climate of Dantooine, Tatooine's blistering, glaring heat was evil incarnate. Sarah had decided against the robes, again, unwilling to tip Czerka to their true nature... She wore the loosest, airiest undershirt she owned, tucked into a belt, over her flying pants and boots. Carth had opted for his version of the same, shedding the orange hangar jacket, his eyes shaded by smoked glasses. He managed to look about as far from military officer as he could probably manage...his hair was long, his scruffle was scruffy, he'd lost some weight and he maintained a wary, watchful distance that worked all too well for a man escorting not one, not two, but three rather attractive females on a world not really known for its level of civilization. 

“Shut it.” He snapped when Sarah smirked at him, and both Bastila and Mission looked equally confused at the exchange. “You can be a giant pain in the ass.” 

“Ass.” She echoed and he had to laugh, shaking his head. 

“Go. Git. Move.” He ordered, waving her to leave the ship ahead of him. “All of you.” 

Sarah nodded, gathered her will, and exited. It was like walking into an oven baking trash...the sheer weight of heat combined with the smell was head spinning, and she swallowed down a fleeting rush of nausea. 

“Pwwwaffft.” Mission chuckled behind her. “It smells worse than the Taris sewers here...and those were sewers.” 

“Yup. Those were sewers.” And Anchorhead was just one giant, overheated sewer, run by one of the worst corporations in the galaxy. Sarah took a deep breath and emerged into the glaring light... she really needed to invest in a pair of glasses like Carth's, and soon. 

Ah, and there was the expected Czerka lackey, datapad in hand. “Freighter.” The man stated the obvious, staring up at the Hawk's underbelly. “Last port of call?” 

“Dantooine.” She answered blandly, well aware of just how far away that was from here. 

“Cargo to declare.” 

“None.” She was confident that the vessel was clear, and carrying only their own essential supplies. Carth had gone over her several times. 

“None? You brought an empty freighter to Tatooine?” He found that idea disturbing...or was it alarming? “Reason for your stay?”

“Tourism.” She answered blandly, feeling Carth fight to keep a straight face. 

“Tour...ism?” The 'customs agent' repeated in ill disguised horror, and Sarah gave him a level stare. 

“Tatooine used to have some of the finest big game hunting in the galaxy. Have things changed since the last time I was here? Used to have a pretty hopping swoop track as well. I'm here to hunt, and I'm here to gamble. Like I said, tourism.” 

“Oh. Right. Tourism, gotcha. You've been here before?”

Sarah gave him the same bored stare that she'd been using from the beginning. Repeating every single thing that she stated was obviously going to make this take twice as long as it should. “Ummhummm.” She agreed. 

“Your name?” 

Sarah...no...different name. “Amasri Idarn.” It fell like an odd echo in her soul. Vacant. Discarded. A fake name, probably.

“Hmmm...” He tapped at the datapad, and Sarah glanced at Bastila. She looked utterly calm, her gaze locked on the custom agent. “Ah, there you are...it's been awhile since we've seen you but...” He held up the datapad next to her face, “Welcome back to Tatooine. Your hunting license will expire soon...if you intend to spend more than a couple of months here, you'll need to renew it. And there are, of course, fees for your berthing here...”

Sarah sighed, nodded. Of course there were. The Enclave had been generous, opening up accounts for them...money was not a real issue. Time was. The longer this took, the worse things became...and this had taken their only true weapon away from the front... Bastila was here. Not with the fleet, where her gifts were a game changer. They were playing their last hand here, and Sarah fully intended to win it. 

“If you fall, come for me.” Carth's voice in her head and she shook the idea away. She wasn't going to fall. She wasn't going to fail. There would be no need for her to come for him. 

“What's that?” Mission asked shyly, while the man was turned away, calculating fees. She was pointing at a large, floppy eared animal tied to a post in the shade, and Sarah smiled. 

“It's a ronto.” Sarah wondered if there were any for rent, because they'd make this easier, faster... “They're for riding, or they carry things.” She turned, feeling the first eddies in the Force around her. Yes, it was out there. Yes, she could feel it. Yes, it was in something which felt the same as the Temple on Dantooine. It was that way... She felt pulled, drawn...

“Yes, Sarah.” Bastila whispered, her fingers gentle on Sarah's shoulder. “You feel it. We don't need the visions anymore, all we need is the Force.” Well, that all sounded good, but Sarah would prefer it if Bastila didn't deliver the news with such gravity. “Amasri Idarn?” 

“Dunno. First name that popped into my head, I must have been using an assumed name the last time I was here.” Sarah shrugged it off and Bastila nodded slowly. 

“Do you remember the last time you were here?” 

They'd traveled in the dark, just the two of them, guided by the Force and the the light of the three moons. Driven then as she was driven now, but the man with her stared holes through her. His eyes were dead, black, empty... 

Carth turned to her suddenly, and she was bathed in his gaze. His eyes were alive, bright, filled with the power of everything that he was. They were dark...but that was only because of the glasses he was wearing...they were truly warm behind the smoked lenses. “Get a load of the creepy guy.” He chuckled, motioning with his chin towards a fine example of 'creepy guy'. The man was staring at the three of them blessed with breasts as if his very mind was about to short circuit from the scene before him. In fact, he seemed to have developed a very noticeable nervous tic...jerking his head every few seconds or so. 

“Lovely.” Sarah grumbled, before shrugging in answer to Bastila's still unanswered question. “I vaguely remember being here before. Unless it was you know who who was here before.” But that made no sense. She would possibly know a name that Revan had operated under...even though that was an odd and random piece of information to glean under those circumstances, but that didn't explain her picture on the custom agent's datapad. “No, I guess it would have had to have been me. Unless Revan looked a whole hell of a lot like me.” 

Bastila snorted in answer, and Sarah nodded. “Exactly. So yeah, I was here. And all I remember is that we traveled at night. Hardly informative.” And why, why did she feel the urge to lie to Bastila? There was so much more in that snippet of her own memories. Her memories. That was unassailable. She'd been here looking for something, much as she was now... 

That headache started to unfold, suddenly the glare was beyond what she could bear. “Bastila...” 

"I have you. Look at me. Sarah. Look at me.” Her eyes were clear, gray, comforting. “You have to center yourself. Hold onto me. Hold onto Carth. You can't keep falling over every time you catch a glimpse of yourself, we're there for you. Breathe through it.” She smoothed Sarah's hair, while Carth rested his hand on Sarah's shoulder. She could just stand there, just like that, forever. Suddenly, there was another hand wrapped around her waist...and it did not belong to Bastila or Carth. Mission stared at her, deep concern in her eyes. 

“You okay?” She demanded, and Sarah had to laugh. She looked so damned serious, but so damned young at the same time. 

“Sure am, munchkin.” She sighed, “I sure am.” 

“I am not a munchkin. I'm just as tall as you are.” Mission wrinkled her nose, stood to her full height, and stared Sarah in the eyes to prove her point. That was true, Sarah was not a tall one, and Mission looked as if she might just turn out to be fairly tall. A few months of regular meals could make a lot of difference... 

Months. Sarah nodded to herself, setting her jaw. Mission deserved to have those months. She deserved to have years. Sarah just needed to buck up, she could have a breakdown after this was over, when it was safe to do so. “Do we have a final tally yet?” She asked the customs agent, who nodded and handed her his datapad. It was, as she expected, a truly inflated total and she gave him a long stare before signing off on it... muttering under her breath as she did so. 

“Let's go.” She said, pointing at Carth. “I need a pair of those.” 

“Why?” Bastila quipped, “Isn't one of him enough?” 

It was a rare thing indeed to see Bastila drop even a little bit of her guard, to hear her crack a full out joke was almost stunning and Sarah had to grin in response. “We're starting to get to you.” She said, and Bastila nodded. 

“Bad influences, all of you. And I have to agree with Carth, that is one very disturbing man. Stay away from him, Mission.” 

“Why are you telling me that? I can see he's weird. And twitchy. Very, very twitchy.” 

“Sarah's taken, and has Carth with her. Pretty sure she'll stay out of that kind of trouble.” 

“Sarah's here and has Carth with her.” Sarah stated. “And that makes me pretty sure that Mission will stay out of that kind of trouble.” 

“Damn straight she will.” Carth grumbled, staring at the man in question. “Where now?” 

“Glasses and then...” She gave her memories a big shake, but managed, as Bastila had instructed, to do so without knocking her knees out from underneath herself. “To the Hunting Lodge. See if anybody there has seen what we're looking for.” 

“What are we looking for? Nobody's bothered to tell me, yet.” 

“Here, we're looking for a krayt dragon den. A big krayt.” She pointed over his shoulder... “In that direction. It has the map fragment in the den.” 

“So you can feel them? You don't need the visions, as Bastila hoped?” There was hope in his eyes, and she nodded slowly. Yes, if they were all like this one and the one on Dantooine, then she would need no visions to find them. Perhaps they could do exactly as Bastila suggested, shut down her links to the late and unlamented Dark Lord of the Sith, take back her own life. Only with that distance could she hope to figure out what was hers, and what had been Revan's. And Revan could keep those memories, Sarah would do without them. She'd rather have nothing.

“So far, I can feel them.” And truly, the visions didn't seem to show very much useful at all, only the immediate area around the fragments. Helpful, but not vital. 

“That's fantastic!” He enthused, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and shooting the 'creepy guy' a death stare. The waft of testosterone laden 'ownership' was almost hilarious, and it grew even more so when he herded her up close to Bastila and Mission. Carth, protecting his little harem... priceless. She knew better, of course, he was firmly attached to her and viewed the other two women as people he cared about and was responsible for... Mission, especially... but there was little to no actual interest there. Sometimes, she sensed his eyes rest on Bastila, and then he yanked them away...usually to plant them firmly back on Sarah. But then, he was taken...not dead. And she could most certainly deal with that. 

The Hunting Lodge was more populated than she'd been expecting, and she was less than thrilled when Creepy decided to follow them in. He remained at a distance, eying Carth with wariness and Bastila with lust. She appeared to be his main target of interest, followed by Sarah. He barely glanced at Mission, thankfully... he might just survive. Might. She could sense Bastila's increasing unease, and it was her turn to rest a hand on Bastila's arm and calm her. Just a creep. We can more than handle him.

The crowd glanced at them curiously, and almost as quickly, looked back at the man who had followed them in. She could feel amusement, anticipation, the edge of disgust...a firm undercurrent of bated wait. He was not a popular one here, she could feel it, and they were hoping for a throw down. But that could lead to fines she was unwilling to pay, it was still best to get what they were here for...and to leave.


	41. Chapter 41

Sarah deliberately broke off from Carth's protective space, leaving him, Bastila and Mission wandering the Lodge and looking at the mounted specimens that ornamented the space. He was doing a fine job at driving people away...great for keeping Mission safe, not so good for getting information. 

“You hunt?” A twi'lek male with watchful eyes asked from behind her, and she nodded slowly. “Wraid?” 

She snorted in response. “Hell, no. I hunt, I don't farm. I'm here for krayt. Big krayt. I didn't come all of the way here for Wraid.” 

“I know where there's a big krayt...” He was hopeful, heartened by her answer. 

You know where the krayt I'm looking for, is. 

“Maybe we could pool our resources. Go together?” 

No. I am not opening up the way to the fragment to you. The last thing they needed were others, fools, trying to treasure hunt the Star Forge now. It was unlikely that others could actually find it, but all it took was one person who knew too much to speak to someone who could seriously get in their way. Malak must know where the fragments are. He and Revan found them. We're on a path that he knows to watch...

“How 'bout I just buy that information from you?” He had a strong mind, but not strong enough to hold her off. Bastila flinched, her gaze jerking over to Sarah...her frown obvious, but she remained at a distance, silently disapproving. Well, that was just too damned bad. The Council at the Enclave had put Sarah in charge of this. 

...enough money to get out of here... His mind flowed, and Sarah nodded with a broad smile. Yes, yes. Enough money to leave Tatooine behind him, for good. She pushed on it slightly, and he crumbled, pulling out his datapad. 

“Here. It is here.” He sighed, handing it to her. She nodded, yes. That was exactly where it was. And his maps showed the pathways through the high ground, exactly what she needed. She transferred more than enough money to get him off of Tatooine, and followed it up with another, less desirable one...resetting his map information to an earlier date...one that lacked the den's coordinates. She sealed the deal with a smile, a fleeting touch, and a curious question... “What krayt?” He watched her go, stunned and silent. 

“Got what we're looking for, here.” She greeted the threesome, locking eyes with Bastila. Carth caught it immediately, looking between the pair of them with open concern. “What?” Sarah challenged the younger padawan... “You know I did what I had to do.” 

“I know. Which is why I am saying nothing, Sarah. This is why you've been put in charge of this. You are willing to make those decisions, and follow through with them. It doesn't mean I have to embrace those decisions, myself. I support you, but I will not always agree with you.” 

“Fair enough.” And it was. She didn't need Bastila's approval, as long as she was willing to follow orders, Sarah's orders. “We don't have the luxury of taking our time. You're here...you're not with the fleet. Which means they're getting gutted to buy us this opportunity. They're dying to give us time.” 

“I know that.” Bastila breathed slowly. “Again, Sarah, this is why you're in charge. And it's why I'm not. Let's go.” She turned, giving Sarah her shoulder in answer. She was able to close Sarah off, to shut the doorway between them... but Carth was an open book of conflicting emotions. He understood what the Navy was going through without Bastila's support. He had long term friends, people he'd served with, dying. The Republic he served was crashing down around his ears. He knew what had to be done. But like Bastila, he wouldn't always agree with what she might have to do to get things done, and done in a timely enough manner. And, in spite of that, he'd support her. Or maybe because of that...she wasn't certain. Somebody had to be the hard ass in this one, and it looked like it was going to be her. 

“What'd you do?” Mission asked curiously, a distinct lack of judgment in the question. 

“I paid the fine twi'lek gentleman a handsome amount for his map, although he'd rather have gone with us. I then altered the map on his datapad and removed his memory of this particular krayt dragon...and its den.” 

“Oh. Is that all? I thought you'd done something bad.” 

And Sarah loved her completely at that moment. “That's all, Mission.” She chuckled, shaking her head and ignoring Bastila's distant stare. “Let's go. Take you and Carth back to the Hawk and we'll get this started.” 

Unfortunately, she walked right into the twitchy, creepy guy...who was obviously waiting for them just outside of the doorway. “Hey, there darlin'!” He greeted effusively, but his eyes tried to get around her to find Bastila. “My name's Tanis. Tanis Venn. We don't get that many human females here on Tatooine...so if there's anything I can do...for either of you...just let me know.” He was gathering breath for more, in spite of the expression Sarah knew she had, when Carth moved her aside and stepped into the breach in front of her. He was a good bit taller than the man, and had a ragingly fine air of outrage rising around him. Sarah adored it, completely and totally. 

“Hey! You talk to her with a bit of respect in your voice or you'll end this conversation minus a few teeth, got it?” He snapped, and the man wavered immediately, torn between pursuing Bastila and keeping safely away from Carth. 

“Why would I want you when I've got him?” Sarah drawled, obviously looking the man up and down and sneering to let him know he poorly he measured up. 

“Does he got both of you?” He ended the question on a squeak and fell to the ground. Carth had not moved, and looked suddenly confused. Sarah had not moved, but was much less confused...she'd sensed Bastila's reaction, felt the Force pull when the man had fallen. And rarely had she encountered a better time to pull that trick. 

“Ass.” She mocked, stepping over him, striding towards the Hawk. She was running out of patience, now that she was here and knew exactly where she was headed. 

 

 

.`.`.``.`.`..`.`.`.`.`

 

Bastila closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to center herself and shake off doubts. It seemed like Revan deliberately lulled her into a sense of security, and then slammed the truth back at her. She could go for days being someone that Bastila was comfortable being with, being around. Smiles, jokes, a fine companion. And then she just flipped into something that was so obviously a muzzled Darth Revan that it took all of Bastila's willpower to not react to her in a totally inappropriate way. And she had the amazing gift of just plucking things that she was supposed to have forgotten out of the air... It was obvious that she struggled against those memories concretely denied to her, every time she pushed, she closed down...exactly as she'd been programmed to. But if she could get at the memories kitty cornered, come at them from another angle, she could grab onto them and hold them. And eventually she'd be holding enough of them to start to erode her programming...

It didn't help that she was very, very gifted at manipulating those around her. She'd put a damper on doing it to the Ebon Hawk's crew...Carth, Mission... but those she had to climb over to get to the Star Forge were obviously fair game. If she wasn't right, Bastila would try to argue with her, try to steer her away, but they simply didn't have the luxury of time. Revan was correct, the time they had out here was being purchased with blood...with lives. And the more time Revan was loose, the more time she had to chip away at those memories, and the closer she got to her own core. Time truly was of the essence and it was best to just get out of Revan's way. If there was a later, then Bastila could try to make sense out of it all, fix what could be repaired. Until then, she just had to follow Revan's lead... just like so many before her had. That was a terrifying idea, Revan tended to lead her followers into darkness, but what other choice was there? At least.. 

Bastila's vision blurred slightly, and she wiped her eyes. No. She was not going to think that way. She sensed that Carth already was, the shadow of his decision clung to him. He would follow Revan into darkness if she led the way, he'd already told her so, that was a done deal. He was hers, perhaps more than Malak had been. There was a completeness to Carth's faith... he was a lost cause already. She'd have to watch him carefully, when Revan snapped, he'd be there, a resounding echo of it. The Dark Lord and her Admiral-Consort... She smirked slightly, there could be Carth's revenge on Saul Karath, longer and more drawn out than a simple death would be. Serving under Carth, serving under Revan's chosen... she was not a fickle lover, and Carth was everything that Bastila understood she prized. She'd give him everything he asked for, and Karath was Malak's lapdog...not necessarily Revan's. She'd hand him over with a bow stapled to his skull if Carth even hinted that was what he desired to have. 

No. I can't think like that. Bitterness, anger, vengeance...all paths to the dark side. She had to stay strong. She had to stay focused. She had to stay optimistic. She had to stop thinking about handing over Malak's current admiral to Revan's up and coming admiral. 

“Why don't you like Sarah?”

Oh, and that was the last thing that Bastila needed, trying to explain this to Mission. Sarah had escaped to a nice, cushy cabin...leaving Bastila alone in the starboard dorm with the teenager. Odd, the only children and teenagers that Bastila had any real experience with were younglings, other padawans, force sensitive youths trained from childhood to be Jedi. Just like she had been. “I like Sarah plenty.” Bastila stated truthfully. Yes, Sarah was a fine person, it was a pity that she didn't really exist. “Her memory issues make her erratic sometimes. She has truly forgotten so much of her teachings that she doesn't remember what she is. What she was meant to be. But...” Bastila sighed, “She is in charge of this. She is the only one who can be. After this is over, we can try to heal her.” Hopefully, Mission could read between the lines, hear the warning there. “I like Sarah, Mission. A lot. But I can't forget what's going on with her. It's part of my job to be her memories until she regains hers. We are bound together, she and I.”

“Until this is over?” 

Oh, Bastila could only wish. “No, Mission. Forever.” 

“Oh, so you have a lifedebt to her? Kind of like Zaalbar?” 

“Sort of. Except I saved Sarah, not the other way around.” Not that that would make much difference when Revan remembered who and what she was. She'd keep Bastila, that was a given...


	42. Chapter 42

It was dusk when Sarah climbed up on a ronto and settled into the saddle, leading the way from Anchorhead. The spreading darkness was a blessing, cool and gentle. The ronto's stride was even and hypnotic. The desolation was soothing, it gave her the space to hear herself. To feel Bastila, shuttered and quiet a handful of meters behind her. To sense Carth, not nearly far enough away to even begin to fade from her perceptions. Even to finally pick up Canderous, he was solid, silent, watchful as he brought up the rear. And beyond that...

She stirred from her fugue, tearing her attention from the siren's call of where she was headed, glancing over her shoulder cautiously. “We're being followed.” She noted softly, speaking into the commlink pickup clipped to the inside of her hood. 

“But they're pretty far behind us, still.” Bastila responded after a pause. “Still at Anchorhead. They're Carth's problem right now.” 

“Hmmm.” Not exactly a statement to fill Sarah with comfort. He was there to watch Mission and take care of the ship, not hold off whatever the hell that was. She pulled out her holoprojector, contacting T-3, and through the droid, Carth. 

“Yeah, babe?” His image appeared before her. It was clear, but she was close and the droid was quality built. 

“I sense we're being followed.” He shifted slightly at her words, leaning closer to he droid and tilting his head, eyes narrowing as he listened. “Think they're still in Anchorhead. Just wanted to give you a heads up.” 

“We're buttoned down tight. Some asshole tried to pawn off a load of gizka on us earlier, but that wasn't about to happen on my watch. Once those damned things get on a ship...” He shrugged. “What did you need from me? Want me to try to head them off?” 

“No. If they're foolish enough to follow two Jedi and a Mandalorian into the Dune Sea, they get what they get. I just wanted you to be aware...in case they went after you. Or the ship. It worries me.” Maybe it had been a mistake to leave them there, they felt vulnerable. Unprotected. They were hers, she was supposed to do a better job than this. She'd let her guard down.

“If I move the ship right now, I might as well paint a target on it.” He noted evenly, and she nodded in agreement. What exactly was she asking of him? If anything at all. I want you to be safe. If you aren't, if something happens to you... I will rain down destruction the like of which the galaxy has never seen before... 

Bastila cleared her throat, the sound carried over her pickup and Sarah jolted back into focus. “Agreed. I just wanted you to know. To act accordingly.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Look, sister. Nothing could give me a bigger case of the neurotic heebie jeebies than some shifty twi'lek trying to bum rush a box of gizka into my cargo bay. I'm on my toes, I guarantee it.”

“Just...be careful.” The very idea of losing him was like looking into a clutching darkness. 

“You too, Sarah. You too. See you when you get back. Onasi out.” The image died without a flicker, cut on his end. 

“He'll be fine, Sarah. We're undoubtedly the target.”

Yes, but nothing would flush Sarah out faster than using Carth as bait. The very idea of it rose panic and a slow burn in her stomach. The very idea of someone using him to get to her was a horror, an outrage. It invited violence on a grand scale.

“Sarah. He's fine.” Bastila sighed again. “They're fine. Assume an ambush...against us...and move forward.”

“Grrrrh.” Sarah growled, slipping her holoprojector back into a pocket, tucking her chin deeply into her hood, and nudging the ronto onwards. If anything happened to him, Bastila would pay first...

“Stop plotting my demise and lead the way, Sarah. We're on a schedule here.” Bastila sounded less than terrorized, an edge of amusement clinging to her syllables. Her amusement was shadowed by Canderous, who snorted a soft laugh. 

“We're taking the long away around.” Sarah stated, shifting the direction that the ronto was headed in slightly. She'd be damned if she led whoever the hell this was straight to the fragment. The visions did show that the buried bay here would be a hell of a place to get caught in, and the fewer people who knew about...who saw...these artifacts, the better. 

“That's your call.” 

Yes, Bastila had that one right. It was Sarah's call. It was another hour before she calmed down, finally feeling their followers leave Anchorhead, and Carth, behind. They're coming. And they were coming fast, obviously choosing speeders or swoops instead of ronto. She clicked her tongue against her teeth thoughtfully, she'd chosen ronto for their silence, they drew little attention, even sand people and jawas weren't that attracted to them. There was a good chance that the three of them could have passed through, unnoticed. Whoever was following them wasn't as cautious, or simply didn't give a damn. 

“We'll hear them coming.” She said, feeling Canderous glance over his shoulder, back towards Anchorhead. “Maybe we can convince them to pop up before we reach the map fragment. Be juicy targets.” How could they have been followed? By who? From where? It had to be from Taris, and the only things that had been in the sky there had been Sith...

She pulled out the holoprojector, reestablishing the link with T-3. “Carth. Send a message to the Enclave. Let them know I think we were followed from Taris.” She could hear Bastila draw in a short breath, but what was done, was done. The best she could offer now was a warning. It would have to do. 

“Understood. You sure you don't need...?”

“No, we're good here.” At least she hoped they were. “Just take care of what you're taking care of.” And I'll take care of things on my end. 

“Well, I'll keep us on standby, engines warm. If you need me, Sarah, I'll be right there. You know that, right?” 

“I know that, Carth.” She did. And more and more, she counted on it.


	43. Chapter 43

Sarah woke to a smothering, overheated silence that smelled strongly of ronto. She was in between a tossing, muttering Bastila and a ronto that smelled strongly of itself, in a tiny indentation in the rocks too small to be considered an actual cave. She could see Canderous's legs from her position...yes, he'd taken the last watch. He was awake and aware, she could sense it rolling off of him. “Still nothing?” She asked by way of greeting, and he snorted in answer. No, still nothing. Even with taking the long way around, hoping to tease their followers into an ambush, they'd make the bay and hopefully the fragment, later that night. She didn't have the time to waste 

She wriggled out from behind the ronto, blinking against the glare. The Eastern Dune Sea was laid out in front of her, the rocks scribed in dark shadows as the suns slid towards the horizon. It was a suddenly breathtaking sight and she paused, staring out across it. Had she stood like this before? Taken this moment to just appreciate the stark majesty? Somehow, she didn't think so. She'd been in an even bigger hurry then...driven by something...blinded by something. It seemed impossible that she could have ever been so focused, so driven. Was that even really a loss? Something she wanted back? She could see where a Jedi Knight could fall into that place, but it seemed so blessedly far away from here. I want myself back. But my real self. Whatever that is. 

“Do you see them?” Bastila asked from behind her, and Sarah almost jumped out of her skin, fingertips grazing the lightsaber hilt at her thigh. 

“Ah, no. Wasn't really looking. Just admiring the view.” It sounded very foolish, and Sarah glanced over her shoulder to gauge the younger woman's reaction. “It's majestic. I don't think I took the time to see it before.” 

“It is majestic, Sarah.” Bastila admitted, moving up beside her and staring out across the shifting, whispering dunes. “It really is. We get so caught up in everything that we lose sight of it all. So focused on what we're doing that we lose who we are.”

We lose who we are. 

“Nothing during the watch, Canderous?” Sarah asked. He was relaxed in a cleft of rocks overlooking the small hole they'd chosen for shelter, and he had a commanding view of all of the approaches to them. 

“Nah. Nothing at all. Figure they went to ground during the day as well. They either are waiting for us to find what we're looking for, waiting for cover of dark, or have a predetermined ambush point.” He shrugged, sliding down from his perch to land next to them. “Whoever it is, they're good.” 

“Uh huh.” She'd give him that much. If she hadn't sensed them, if she didn't still sense them, she'd never know they were around. “Two Jedi and a veteran Mandalorian type of good?”

He didn't dignify that with an answer and she merely smiled. Exactly. Only a fool would have followed them out here. 

“We'll be at the fragment in a couple of hours. If they don't jump then...” She needed to know who. Why. She needed to stamp this out here. If they'd been followed all of the way from Taris, then it was unlikely that their tail would simply give up on Tatooine. 

“Then we'll go hunting.” Canderous stated firmly, slinging his rifle and readying his ronto. “Don't like the idea that we're being followed around like this. Nothing good could have come from Taris.” 

And that was a rare truth. She nodded, gracefully vaulting onto her ronto and turning it to face the pull she felt. Enough of this. She'd tried to draw them out, they'd refused. It was time to get the fragment and deal with them if they showed. And Canderous was correct, if they didn't, it would be time to go after them. The desert was a perfect place to make problems just vanish. 

They had ridden for a couple of hours, it was a dull, violet twilight, the edge of the first moonrise gilding the dunes silver when Canderous pulled his ronto even with Sarah's. “Still coming?” He asked softly. Now would be a perfect time for an ambush, the shadows were deep, the light fickle and uncertain. Another hour and the second moon would start to rise and the Dune Sea would be brightly lit. 

“Yes.” What were they doing? If they were in a speeder, they had speed on the rontos. They had to be waiting for the fragment. But how could they even know about it? Where had they slipped up? At least she could sense Carth, he felt unconcerned, at ease, confidently focused on something. He felt good. Content. He soothed her, he calmed her. “They're still there.” She breathed. 

“And we're close. I can feel it.” Bastila had ridden up on her other side, her gaze locked in the same direction that Sarah was facing. “And I also feel...”

Something very large. Something very alive. “The krayt.” Sarah affirmed. “The best time to try to take us is when we're trying to take it.”

“Agreed.” Canderous stated. “I need to get a good look at the terrain, so don't go and do something stupid before we get the chance to work this out. We don't know what's following us...” 

“I'm not in any hurry to get this started.” Sarah noted. “And the last site had droids, so I'm not counting that possibility out, either.” She had trouble sensing droids, they just didn't resonate like living beings seemed to. 

“A big krayt, whoever's following us and droids like we found in the temple on Dantooine?” Bastila shook her head. “A big order, Sarah.” 

And it was only going to get bigger. Sarah had utterly no idea whatsoever how they were supposed to handle Korriban. And even if they found the Star Forge, what then? Without a real clue as to what it was, they were shooting in the dark. It had to be impressive. It had to be guarded. 

Am I simply fodder? Disposable? So broken that I won't be a loss? Thrown away on a fool's errand? But Bastila isn't. She's vital, or is she? If she was so damned important would she really be here? Would she really be put in a place where she's rightfully worried about a couple of droids, a canyon krayt, and no more than six people following her? Is she part of the Coruscant temple's investigation? Or are we a last gasp attempt by the Dantooine temple to prove its worth? This is all too important for that...

Bastila reached across the space between the ronto and rested her hand on Sarah's forearm. “I have faith in you, Sarah. I have faith in us.” Sarah sighed, half annoyed. It was good to not be alone, but it was sometimes intrusive that the younger woman could read her so well. And it wasn't fair that it didn't seem to flow equally both ways. 

“We should leave the ronto here.” Sarah sighed, gracefully dismounting and loosening her ronto's saddle. “If that krayt smells big food, we'll be peeling him off of us before we get a chance to work this out.” That was the last thing they needed, to have not only their followers get the drop on them, but that krayt as well. Canderous grunted in agreement, sliding down and unlimbering an impressively large gun. It was time to get this shit started...

She moved out of the cover they'd paused in, staring around. It was bright, two of Tatooine's three moons up and almost full. The dunes sloped up from this position, and faintly, she could just make out something different than the rocks that crowned the height of the slope. She sighed, wading up the slope until she reached the point where it leveled out, a flat space in front of a too regular to be natural dark opening in the rocks. And beyond that opening she felt the siren's call of the map fragment, and the life of a very large creature. 

“Canderous?” He was wearing a low light and probably thermal visor. He didn't have the force, but he had a different set of tools at his disposal. “I feel the fragment. I feel the krayt. I feel the temple...” 

“I see...” The lines around his eyes deepened as he focused, squinted. “Not much heat. I think I can see the krayt. Something big and...” His hand described an organic hump. “But no heat. No heat signatures in there at all.” 

That didn't fill Sarah with joy. The krayt would give off little to no heat, it was ectothermic. But the fragment gave no heat? Was it shielded? Broken? Would she still sense it if it didn't work anymore? These things were supposed to be thousands of years old...they were risking it all on machines older than the Republic. 

“Take a perch in the rocks and hit the krayt. Pull him out into the open, keep an eye on our approach, and give Bastila and me support and cover. If you can take it out with a face shot, I'm good with that as well. Not here for the sport of it all.” 

“Gotcha.” 

He strode away, vanishing amongst the rocks alongside of the entrance, and Sarah palmed her lightsaber hilt, waiting. She could feel Bastila snap into combat mode, moving to the perfect place to maximize the pair's attack front, placing Sarah just a fingertip outside of her much larger reach.

There was a wait, and the barest sound of a silenced round, then a muffled roar and one huge, pissed off canyon krayt dragon boiled out of the entrance, bearing straight down on them. Sarah rolled out of the way, taking the opportunity to run her lightsaber hilt deep down its side when it turned on Bastila. Another shot, it ricocheted off of the krayt's skull, about an inch from the mid face shot that would have been an instant kill, a shot that would have exploded through the krayt's large sinus cavities. 

Need to get it turned more towards Canderous's position... 

She ducked beyond Bastila, deliberately moving the younger woman by pushing into her attack apron. Bastila compensated immediately, drifting in the direction that Sarah needed her to come around to. Good. Right there. And... They flanked its head, now pointed directly in Canderous's direction. Take the shot. Not going to get a better one. 

Another hollow, empty thump of a silenced round, and the krayt's legs dropped out from underneath it. 

“Get the fragment.” Bastila hissed, still warily covering the krayt. “I'll stay out here, in case they come now. The fewer of us stuck in that hole, the better.” 

Sarah nodded, moving quickly towards the opening and warily peering in. It was some sort of bay or lobby, the vision had been dead on correct. It was empty of killer droids, or truly anything else of interest except for the tightly closed, metallic graphite ovoid in the back. It fell open as she approached it, banishing the darkness with the same awesome light show as the first had, the data syncing seamlessly with the Dantooine data held on her datapad. So far, so good. 

Another hollow, empty report of a rifle sounded and she froze, listening. Yes, they'd come, finally. And they'd found two of the three of them outside, waiting and ready. She emerged cautiously, clinging to the shadows, her eyes locked on a defiant Bastila, saber ignited, standing between the newcomers and the cave. 

I don't know these people. I've never...no. That's wrong. I have seen the one before, on Taris. He was on the platform with Kang, when we stole the Hawk. How, how is he here? 

Questions to ponder later, after his death. How close could she get until she was seen? She studied them, her count had been close. She'd been betting on six, she got five instead, all of them under cover of their speeder and trying to take pot shots against...Canderous. Foolish idea, he was under cover, Bastila was out in the open, but they were deliberately not shooting at her. And she was deliberately holding her position, protecting Sarah. She's the target, and they want her alive. And that simply wasn't about to happen while Sarah was upright and kicking...Bastila was hers, no one else was allowed to have the woman that Sarah was bound to. She galvanized into motion, charging into the open, a grenade clenched in her main hand, the lightsaber ignited and held reversed in her off hand. 

“There's another damned Jedi!” One of them yelled, confirming Sarah's deepest suspicions. They weren't here for Sarah, they hadn't even realized she was here. They weren't here for Canderous, who was laying down a deliberate and accurate covering fire to get Sarah close enough. They were here for Bastila. 

But they were more than willing to shoot at Sarah, or try to. Bastila moved into the fray, uncomfortably close to Sarah, making them doubt the wisdom of shooting at the pair of them. “Fire in the hole!” Sarah yelled, giving the grenade five seconds of hang time, and then snapping it in the direction of the speeder. It was a perfect toss, none of them were actually in the speeder, and the grenade landed snugly behind the driver's seat. It exploded a moment later, forcing their attackers out into the open, and Sarah stared at them. “Nice hat, asshole.” She spat, getting a good look at the man she'd only fleetingly seen on Davik Kang's flight bay. It was, in fact, an incredibly silly looking hat on a very blocky, squat man wearing goggles. “Anybody ever tell you it looks like a dick...head?” 

Canderous sputtered in laughter, picked up by her earpiece tied to him, but she kept her expression outraged, cold, promising death and mayhem. It was easy, amazingly easy. This idiot in the stupid hat dared to shoot at her? Dared to try to take Bastila? 

“Do you know who I am?” The man demanded, belligerent. He was still holding it together, but his back up felt shaken, uncertain. They hadn't been expecting two Jedi. They were worthless. Pointless. They just needed to die, and she was the one to convince them of that. 

“No. Do you know who I am?” She hissed in response, “I am...” 

Talking to a dead man. Canderous's shot was perfect, and he'd been presented with a nearly stationary target at fairly close range. Sarah didn't feel relieved, she felt cheated. Let down. Like a new toy had been snatched from her grasp, dangled before her and then denied. And his companions were beneath her notice, they broke and ran...choosing the drawn out death that the desert offered instead of a quick standup fight against her. She felt like screaming, gnashing her teeth, railing against Canderous for doing the smart thing. 

There's something wrong with me. 

“Sarah.” Bastila rested her arm over Sarah's shoulders, holding her protectively close, forehead to forehead, and the feeling fled. “Did you get the map fragment?” 

“Y...es. Yes, I did. It synced up perfectly with what we got on Dantooine.” 

“Good.” Bastila's voice was soothing, her eyes shining. “Let's check out our krayt for pearls and get you back to Carth, where you belong.”


	44. Chapter 44

Carth had a lot of experience being left to his own devices on a ship, waiting. At least now he had things to do, it was bad enough that they had Mission out here with them, but at least he could try to start laying the foundations for a better education than she'd gleaned piecemeal off of Taris. It kept him busy, and it kept his mind off of the worrisome last contact he'd had with Sarah. Followed? How could they have been followed off of Taris? And if they had been, then they'd led those followers straight to Dantooine, and the Enclave there. He sighed, shaking his head. How much of a secret could that be if Malak himself had been trained out of there? Served from there? Met Revan there? It wasn't as if the man was suddenly going to forget where he'd learned how to be a Jedi at. That was just too stupid to consider. They couldn't have given away the Enclave's location to a man who'd already known it. 

“They'll be fine.” Mission stated, glancing at him over the screen she'd been studying. “If you're worried, then call her.” 

No. He knew better, he'd only make contact in an emergency or if they were overdue. It was too risky, especially if Sarah thought she was being followed. “Don't want to distract her.” He shrugged, leaning in to catch a glimpse of the screen. “How's it going?”

Mission wrinkled her nose at him in answer. “I don't see why I have to take a test.” She muttered mutinously, but Carth ignored it. She was not getting out of this, no matter how much of a tantrum she wanted to give him. He was not a teacher by any means, but he could kill some of his extra time by getting her started at least. He'd be damned if he'd simply overlook the obvious, to shirk what needed to be done because it wasn't his business, wasn't his responsibility. Mission had to be smart and she was still pretty young, her education could probably be salvaged. If something good could come out of this trip, and out of the fact that he'd be spending a lot of time watching the precious Ebon Hawk, he'd take it. And he honestly liked Mission, she was a good kid when she just admitted that was what she was. He grimaced, flipping through the available educational programs he'd picked up on Ord Mantell while Sarah had taken Mission safely away...at least Mission was someone to talk to. Zaalbar was a strictly one sided conversationalist, unless Mission was around to translate, and the wookiee had become very quiet recently. 

“What else do you have to do?” He asked when her gaze locked on him. They'd cleaned everything there was to clean during their stay on Dantooine. Everything was perfectly arranged, except for... “Unless you want to pick up the starboard dorm? That's your mess, mostly.” At least he strongly suspected it was hers, he didn't see Bastila as being the untidy type. It gained him an amused chuffing laugh from Zaalbar, and Mission's sudden intent focus back on the screen in front of her, exactly as he'd expected. 

“Carth.” Sarah's voice, loud and clear in his earbud... she was broadcasting in the open, where before she had contacted him via the much more secure holo link with T-3. “Hunt successful. Will be returning close to first dawn, be ready to leave.” 

“Gotcha.” He answered, feeling Mission's eyes lift to him in curiosity, and then in relief when he touched his ear. “Will prep for take off then.” He frowned when Sarah dropped the connection, knowing that Mission was intuitive enough to read him well but he was unwilling to try to hide things from someone he lived with. Sarah's voice had been sharp, curt, edging towards pissy. She was annoyed, but not truly upset. Things hadn't gone badly, they had just not gone exactly as she'd planned or hoped. 

“She's snarky?” 

“Yup.” He chuckled, taking the seat across from her and rolling his head back, closing his eyes. “She gets that way.” 

“I thought Jedi weren't supposed to do that. I thought they were supposed to be more like Bastila. I thought they didn't have boyfriends, either... There's something wrong, isn't there? I mean, she's...”

“Sick. Too sick to be a Jedi, Mission. We just need to help hold her up through this until she can rest, heal.” 

“Isn't there someone else who can do this? There are lots of Jedi, right?” Her gaze was outraged, and he could only shrug in response. It should be like she said, but he knew better. Only Sarah and Bastila could do this, they were sure of that. And a return to Coruscant was so very risky, from what he understood. He could be pulled back by the admiralty. The Temple at Coruscant could take Sarah out of this completely, but would they replace her? Was there even someone who could replace her at all? No, much as he hated to admit it, it certainly seemed like Sarah and Bastila were it. Their last chance. Their last hope. A truly sobering thought that he wished he wouldn't have had. But one last hope, one last chance was more than he'd had at the beginning of this, when he'd truly felt that they had no chance whatsoever.

“No, Mission. It's got to be us.” At least she was young enough to be blameless in this. She was just an underage refugee from an obliterated planet, the Republic would do nothing to her. He was a commissioned officer, and he suspected he was at some level of absent without authorization. Sarah and Bastila would answer to the Jedi Order. Canderous would be fine, he was simply what he was, a Mandalorian mercenary. And the Republic hung in the balance. “Finish your test.” He sighed, wondering if Sarah's shopping spree had included alcohol. He wasn't a big drinker by any means, but thinking about this made him unsettled. He'd love to just get the Hawk in the air, in hyperspace, and settle down with Sarah and a drink. He knew the hard decisions had to be made, and was certain that they were making them, but nothing could completely chase away his awareness of just how dire their situation was. “Did Sarah buy any booze?” He finally asked. Mission might be cute as a button, but she'd been raised in the underbelly of Taris...by a gang. He doubted if he could shock her by inquiring as to their alcohol supplies. 

“She did. Bastila disapproved, but.” Mission shrugged, her eyes back on her screen. “Sarah won. Sarah always wins.” 

She did, especially when she went up against Bastila. But then, even though no one had come out and said it to him directly, he was still convinced that Sarah had been Bastila's master well before the Jedi strike team had gone after Revan. It was the only thing that made sense to him. When Sarah got that look and put her foot down, Bastila deferred and fell right into line behind her.

“Hmmmm.” He answered noncommittally. He didn't know. And even if he did, it wasn't Mission's business as to what sort of relationship Sarah and Bastila shared. He wasn't even sure if Sarah knew it anymore, and Bastila tended to hold her cards close, never saying any more than she had to. He wished she was more open, if she'd really known Sarah well, then she could help Sarah regain herself. But that something else that fell under the later category... right now, Bastila was edged with focus. He could feel it, and it just underlined his understanding that things were bad. Bastila cared deeply for Sarah, that was obvious, and he just had to put his faith in the fact that she was acting in Sarah's best interests. And she had a whole hell of a lot more information than he did, and undoubtedly a deeper understanding...she was the Jedi. She was bound to Sarah in a way he could never completely grasp.

“I'm going to try to get some sleep before they get back.” Maybe that would help him, he hadn't slept well the night before. The cabin had been too quiet, the bed too large. He'd been, hilariously enough, too lonely to sleep correctly. It was a sad, sad state of affairs, indeed. And it was a disturbing one. When had he started to miss her? To need her? It was stupid, he should know better...but she'd always maintained that she was just as interested in seeing if their relationship could work as he was. Maybe it wasn't as stupid as it seemed when she wasn't here. He didn't have these doubts when she was close by, he didn't feel empty when he could hear her voice, feel her presence. 

“Sure.” Mission mumbled, her attention focused on the screen in front of her and he smiled slightly, heading back for his cabin. It was quiet, still, and he undressed, lying spreadeagled across the sheets, taking up as much room as he could. The bed, chosen to be roomy enough for two, seemed suddenly to be much too large, much too empty, for just one. He sighed, rolling over onto her side of the bed and burying his face in her pillow. She would be back soon, and then he could sleep for real. He'd just have to settle for a doze, a nap, maybe just some rest. 

 

 

They rolled in, exactly as promised, less than an hour before first dawn. Carth moved out to meet them, emerging from the darkness that held the Hawk close. His eyes coasted over the three of them, all alive, he sensed no real anxiety or injury. “All good?” He asked when Sarah slid to the ground next to him. Canderous snorted in reply, a thin edge of amusement coloring the sound. 

“All good.” The Mandalorian replied, dismounting and moving towards Carth, his features hidden in the shadows. “She's just a little miffed at me.”

“Am not.” Sarah's very tone belied her two terse words. “It was a good shot. A great shot. And I told you we weren't there for sport.” 

“You still wanted a piece of him.” The Mandalorian's voice was sympathetic, understanding. “You have a streak of my people in you.” 

“It was best you took him down.” Sarah slapped reins against her palms, “I just got myself going, psyched up, made it there and...he's dead. Kind of anticlimactic.” 

Canderous chuckled and rested his hand on her shoulder. “One day, little one, I'd love to hear the stories of your deeds standing against us. If you ever remember them, I'd be the first to listen.” 

Bastila muttered something under her breath, but she was still mounted and the breeze stole whatever it was. Carth considered asking, but decided against it. Bastila had never admitted to having been a Revanchist, she'd never even hinted that she'd followed Revan into the War. Was she simply hiding it, or had Sarah gone...and Bastila had not? So many questions, but Sarah no longer had the answers, and Bastila had made it obvious she wasn't forthcoming with much information. 

“Let's get a move on.” Carth said, taking a hold of the reins of Bastila's ronto and leading it towards the stable they had been rented from. “It'll be getting hot soon.” The less time they spent here, the better.


	45. Chapter 45

Sarah shed her clothes on the refresher floor, kicking them into the corner. Three days of melting heat, no hygiene and a smelly ronto created a truly fascinating odor that seemed to want to drift behind her as she walked. Sand dribbled from the cast off pile, and she could taste it in her mouth, feel it in her hair. She knew it wasn't the first time that she'd smelled this bad, or worse, but it was never by choice. Especially when she was living closely with a lover. He deserved better than ronto perfume, even if she was too exhausted to do anything more than crash the first moment her ass met the sheets. She could feel the ship lift, her engines catch, and the hint of a swift acceleration as they left Tatooine behind, but it was so skillfully done that the room barely tilted. She smiled slightly, Carth was good. Better than good. She got the water going, flicking her fingers in the stream until it was just the right temperature, and she stepped in with a sigh of relief and delight.

The water plumed tan with dust and sand as it sluiced down her body and was gone in the drain, chased down by bubbles when she attacked the worst of the smell with scented soap and shampoo. She sensed Carth enter the refresher, saw his blurry form outside of the shower door, but he said nothing and didn't open the shower. He simply waited patiently as she washed, rinsed, and repeated until she couldn't smell herself any more.

He stood just outside of the shower, holding a towel spread in his hands,waiting for her to open the door. It was wonderful to be wrapped up in the towel, in his arms, and just stand there.

"I missed you terribly." He murmured, and she bathed in the sound of his voice.

"I don't deserve you."

"Bah. If I think you deserve me, then you deserve me." He wiped her skin down, just slow enough to let her know he was admiring, but not so slow that it was an obvious attempt at seduction. And no, he wasn't really in the mood...he felt almost as tired as she did when she opened up to him slightly.

"Something happen while we were gone?" She asked, and he made a vaguely negative grunt.

"No." He finally stated when she remained stubbornly silent. "I made Mission start the educational program I bought on Ord Mantell. I preplanned our basic route, did a fast inventory to make sure we're not running through supplies too quickly... Make work, really."

"You feel tired." Nothing he was describing should have worn him down even slightly. He'd had his forehead resting on her shoulder, but he lifted it at her words, meeting her gaze in the mirror in front of her. He grimaced slightly, then kissed the line of her shoulder.

"Like I said, Sarah. I missed you terribly. Maybe now that you're back, I can get some real sleep." There was something under his voice, under his gaze...he wasn't quite comfortable with that admission, but he was willing to share it with her anyway.

"Carth, I..." What? Didn't want this? Hardly. The last person she was going to try to fool would be herself. She wanted it, all of it. She couldn't be alone anymore, there simply wasn't enough of her left for that, this whole trip had proved that undeniable fact. The bond with Bastila helped, somewhat, but it always felt so one sided... Bastila seemed to feel her, but she rarely felt Bastila. No, her choice to fill that void, to take that place, was Carth. It was regrettable that she'd pushed it with the Force in the beginning, but that wasn't her fault. He knew it had happened. He forgave her for it. "I think I love you." There. It was out, she'd said it. That was how she preferred things, straight on and out in the open. It was probably too soon, but if she'd had experience with how to work something like this, it was all gone. This was all new, and she was bound to make mistakes.

His eyes widened and his grip on her shoulders tightened, his gaze still locked with hers in the mirror. "Sarah?" He whispered, obviously stunned.

"I think...I love you." Oh, it was bad. She'd just screwed up, massively. But how? He was the one who kept saying he wanted to make more out of this, to see how far it could go. "Carth, I need you to say something here." Now. The more he thought, the more her mind told her he was struggling to come up with a gentle way of letting her down gently. And he was in such a tempest of emotions that she couldn't even begin to read him accurately.

"I know I love you. I don't think I do." He sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, ignoring the damp towel and her dripping hair. "When we see the other side of this, Sarah, I want to have it all with you. We've just got to get there first."

Yes, that. Dantooine hadn't been truly difficult. Neither had Tatooine. But that all felt like she was being lulled into a false sense of security. And at the end of it all, Korriban. How was that even going to be possible? Revan and Malak had been already been sliding deeply into the dark side when they'd traveled there. Of course they'd been fine. She couldn't take the crew to Korriban, it was simple insanity...

"Hey. That's not the face I'd expect after...oh, hey." He breathed, and she turned in the towel, winding her arms around his neck and hung there, trying to wrap herself up in him. He could chase it all away. He could make it all better, make it all fit together. It was a gift he had. "Sarah, hon, it's going to be okay. We'll figure it out. You're tired. I'm tired. Let's just get some sleep, it'll be better in the morning."

And he was undoubtedly right. She let him shoo her along towards the cabin, dropping the towel on the floor and relaxing into the bed sheets when they arrived. "I'm worried." She admitted, her eyes closed, shadowed by her forearm. He paused slightly, the rustling, shuffling sound of his clothes leaving his body stuttered, then started again. "About Korriban. It's no place to go... Mission, especially. I won't take her. I can't. Bastila, as well." Mission was just a kid, but a kid who was going to grow into something that could be prized for all of the wrong reasons. Taking her to Korriban was insanity, and Bastila was that, times a thousand. Carth was a highly decorated, well known Republic officer. He shouldn't go anywhere near Korriban, either. And as for Sarah, she didn't even know if there was a checklist of 'oh, hell no!' attached to her.

Carth sighed, the weight of the world apparent in that sound, before he rested the flat of his palm against her chest, over her heart, his fingers spread. A moment later, a hard, cool edge touched her skin, cupped by his index finger and thumb and she smelled... alcohol.

"You found it." She smiled, lifting her forearm enough to squint out at him.

"Figured you'd want a drink. Knew I did." He said, resting the tumbler against her skin. "Best I can do right now, Sarah. I wish..."

"You do more than enough, Carth." She sat up, keeping the tumbler upright, and leaned against him. "I wish..." Everything seemed to be just that, a wish. Out of reach.

He turned his head slightly, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, but he never moved to fully face her. "Sarah. Leave Mission out of Korriban, yes. Bastila, certainly. But if you go...I go. Promise me."

"Carth, I can't. You're..."

His jaw locked and his expression darkened. "I'm the one doing the flying, Sarah. The one doing the navigation. Promise me, damn it, or..." He growled. "You're not leaving me behind. Swear it. No matter where this takes you, I go."

"No matter where this takes me, you go. I swear."

"Good." He muttered, mollified, and she stroked his back, her fingers following the ditch of his spine. He picked up the other tumbler sitting on the side table and stared at its contents through the side. "But I agree. We don't take Mission to Korriban. We don't take Bastila. That's just begging for disaster, more than going to Korriban at all does."

"Pulling one over on Bastila will be difficult for me to manage. She reads my mind all too often." And keeping her out was a lesson that her crash retraining course on Dantooine had loudly not addressed.

He rested his hand on her knee and gave it a slight squeeze. He felt far away, thoughtful, almost distant and she regretted putting all of this on him. "We'll figure something out." He promised, taking a long taste of his drink. "Right now, we worry about Kashyyyk."

"Great." While not as desperately unnerving as Korriban, it could still be very problematic. Another Czerka world, one that was more tightly run than that corporation ran Tatooine. And they brought cargo that Czerka would find all too interesting indeed. "We'll have to just not mention we have Zaalbar on board, they'll want us to pay them for him or something." Czerka made a lot of money exporting wookiees for labor slaves, hardly something that sat well with Sarah. But that was just another thing that had to take a back seat until the Republic was more secure than it was at that moment. If the Imperials won, then Czerka would spread unchecked. Hard as it was, what they were doing was too important, too vital, to be sidetracked from. They went to Kashyyyk, got the fragment, and left. That was it.

She leaned against him, letting his presence soothe her, closing her eyes and immersing herself in the rhythmic throbbing that conspired to lull her into a deep sleep... the throbbing of the Hawk's engines, so much a part of the background noise that she usually barely noticed them...and Carth's heartbeat. They sounds matched, overlaid each other, perfectly aligned and she felt her eyelids grow heavy. They both whispered firmly that, at that moment, she was loved and exactly where she was supposed to be.


	46. Chapter 46

"Bastila?"

Mission had the absolute ability to pick the worst times to speak, and Bastila sighed, opening her eyes and letting her attempt at a meditation dissipate. At least Mission had picked up her side of the dorm, and had, up until then, been fairly intent on a screen. Whatever Carth had her doing, it had kept her attention, until now.

"Yes, Mission?" Revan had gotten out of dorm living, and apparently gave little thought to leaving Bastila with Mission. Patience. Calm. Acceptance.

"What's gonna happen to me? I mean, after this?"

That serious question, on the edge of Bastila's meditation, brought a sudden flash of intuition, strengthened by the flow of a peacefully, happily asleep Revan just meters away. That one breathed commitment, merrily tying and strengthening the knots that held Carth to her. Those two had made yet another step into that, together.

"Depends." Bastila answered truthfully. "If Sarah and Carth make it out the other side together, intact, they will adopt you. If they do not, I can assure you that the Jedi Order will intervene." If, of course, Mission survived. But those were words that Bastila could not put breath to. No one's survival in this was guaranteed. It was bad enough that she had to admit to Mission that she didn't consider Sarah's or Carth's survival a given, much less delve into the absolute worst case scenario. But Revan seemed to view Mission's part in this as necessary, or maybe it was Zaalbar that was necessary. There had been very little hint from Revan on Dantooine that she had really considered leaving Mission there. She might have considered it, but it had never really gained any ground. And none of the masters had challenged her over it, as Bastila had been expecting, been hoping. How much space were they willing to give Revan? Anything she needs. Anything she wants...

"You think they might not?" Mission's voice squeaked at the very idea. "Sarah takes care of Carth. And Sarah's a good Jedi, right? Right?"

"Sarah's better than a good Jedi. She's a great Jedi. And she takes care of Carth. She takes care of you. She...takes care of me." It was an awkward idea to understand that last one. Revan took care of Bastila and did a damned fine job of it. "If anybody can get us all through this, it's Sarah." And that was the truth, just as long as Sarah stuck and Revan remained asleep. Thankfully, she seemed truly content playing house with Carth, her episodes of sliding, of conflicting with her programming were fewer and less intense. And as she wrote her own, real, new memories...those padded over the loss she'd suffered. They gave her something to fall back on.

"But you keep saying she's sick. That there's something wrong with her. But Carth says she has to do this... That nobody else can."

"Nobody else can, Mission. He has that right. It would be best if someone else could, but..." Bastila shrugged. It all didn't matter, there was no someone else. Even now, now that they knew the planets, had the first two fragments on the path, it didn't feel like anything had changed. Revan was the one who must find the Star Forge...again. Carth must stand behind her during it. Bastila must be the one who knew what Revan was not allowed to, to be there when she faltered, to reinforce the programming that kept her Sarah. Even the random ones, the ones that the Dantooine Council had not chosen seemed to link in together. Sarah worked well with Canderous, and was now vital to Mission and Zaalbar. The pieces just seemed to click together. If she could just get Sarah through this without her getting another bash on the head, scrambling her brains even more, and somehow keep her from remembering... Bastila was disturbed by just how quickly she'd recovered after the crash landing on Taris. If she was capable of bouncing back from that in mere days, there was little hope her first injury would keep her down. All they had was the programming, and she was wearing away at that a little every day. And, unfortunately, that would make her the most vulnerable when she needed to be the strongest... Korriban.

The weight of Mission's stare dragged her back from those thoughts and Bastila sighed. "We make the best of it, Mission." She stood up, dusted herself off, and gazed at the teenager. "What have you been doing?"

"Carth bought a school program on Ord Mantell. Says if I learn enough math, he'll teach me how to navigate and fly. Says I need an education if I want to be more than a..." Mission flushed, and Bastila could guess exactly how Carth had put that. Most of the time he was very circumspect, very polite, but when he wanted to get a point across, he could get blunt and earthy. "And he's right, isn't he?" The girl dropped her head, playing anxiously with the tip of her left lekku.

"Carth is usually right." Bastila chuckled, resting a hand on Mission's shoulder. "And yes, he's right about this." At least he was bothering, trying. Canderous was another possibility, but he'd stepped back after it became obvious that Carth and Sarah were falling into parental roles. It just seemed like it was all happening so damned quickly, gaining speed as it fell together. It almost felt like it should be comforting, the more attention that Revan paid to Carth, the less she strained against her bonds. He was someone else to help Bastila carry this burden. But if Revan broke him...well, Bastila mourned to consider the consequences. He was vital to this. Revan owned Zaalbar, which meant quite bluntly that she owned Mission. And the Mandalorians had come out of the war...not despising Revan, but brimming with respect for her. The chances were high that even if he knew exactly who she was, Canderous would still follow Revan.

"I'm going to have to stay on the ship again, aren't I?" Mission sighed, and Bastila grimaced. Yes. Yes. And definitely yes.

"Mission... this is..." Truly no place for her. Bastila couldn't think of an environment more alien to someone raised in Taris's ecumenopolis if she tried. "What does Zaalbar say?"

"He..." The girl bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, "Says I shouldn't go. He will not go either. He doesn't say why."

Of course not. He'd just be property on a Czerka controlled world. And Mission wouldn't be much more. It was simply best that they handled this exactly as they had handled Tatooine... leave Carth to watch over the ship and these two. "Our next stop is Manaan." Bastila noted slowly. "It's quite civilized, I'm certain you'll be able to see it. Oceans as far as the eye can see..."

"Really? I've never seen an ocean. But I've never seen trees either, Bastila. I just feel kinda useless here. I can help. I've helped before, I took Sarah to the Upper City. The Sith Base..."

Bastila took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She didn't exactly mean to open the door to Revan, more to skim that one's surface thoughts. But Revan was not awake...she was asleep, caught just on the other side of her dream state and quite suggestible, much more open than Bastila had been counting on. Revan's guard was dropped, she had been lulled and comforted by Carth's presence. The fact he was also deeply asleep only added to it, she was all tied up with him. She'd also imbibed, and had not worked to mitigate the alcohol's absorption.

"You will be of utmost importance to this, Mission." With all of the static from her programming shut down in sleep, Revan's grasp of this was so crystal clear, so concrete. The exact details were still obscured, Bastila couldn't see the when, or the why, but the basic fact was there... Mission was vital. Pivotal. And on some level, Revan knew it.


	47. Chapter 47

“You expect me to land a freighter on a tree-house.” The amusement in Carth's voice was at odds with the edge of his statement, and Sarah simply nodded. Yes, as a matter of fact, she did expect him to land a freighter on what amounted to a deck in a tree. And he'd do it and do it well, with panache. 

Sarah ran her hands over her hips, settling her gear comfortably. The last thing she wanted to do was to tip off Czerka that she was a Jedi, so once again she'd chosen a hodgepodge of civilian clothes and armor that matched the battered freighter she arrived in. A little research had given her a cover story, a reason for a tramp freighter and her motley crew to be on Kashyyyk that had nothing to do with bringing home wookiees, and she was ready to go. She picked up her pack, settling its weight comfortably on her shoulders, listening warily to the clink of specimen bottles within it, and nodded to Bastila standing in the access behind her. “Let's go get this done.” 

The freighter turned slightly, adjusted its tilt and sank onto its landing struts with barely a tremor. A perfect landing, just as she was expecting. “We'll be in touch.” She said, moving by Bastila and striding towards the airlock, picking up Canderous as she passed the vehicle bay in the center of the freighter. It was time to play...

The iris cycled open, and the very weight of humidity, of life pressed in like a cloud. She forced down a cough, it felt unpleasantly like she was a lizard in an over-pressured terrarium in a zoo. She set her jaw, and strode intently towards the first person she saw in a Czerka uniform...who was conveniently striding intently towards her. 

“Nice landing.” He said by way of greeting, a half smile crossing his features. Good looking young man, and Sarah throttled back on the aggression, giving him a return smile. If he was willing to be civilized, she'd return the favor. 

“Thanks.” She said, glancing over her shoulder. No, it wasn't a nice landing, it was a perfect landing, the Hawk set just off center of the deck, giving her aft section, with the engine spray and exit, a wider berth than her front. 

“Your name?” He asked, giving Bastila an appreciative once over with his eyes, but his manner remained cordial and professional. 

Name. Well, it had worked without issue on Tatooine, with a Czerka official...so...it was worth trying again. “Amasri Idarn.” 

“You were just on Tatooine.” His eyes flowed over her, over the silent Mandalorian, to the Ebon Hawk. “With a white and orange Dynamic.” 

“Yup. And I paid all of the fees as requested and made absolutely no trouble there. Exactly what I intend to do here. I have a contract to fill.” 

“Contract?” He glanced down at the datapad he carried, “Nothing in your history with us suggests you've been in the market for labor slaves before.” 

And Sarah would give her left arm to know that history. “And I'm still not. I'm under contract for pharmaceutical samples. Tach glands, in particular.” 

“You want authorization to go down into the Shadowlands? Drink your fill of crazy this morning?” 

“That's why I brought the Mando.” Sarah was all too well aware that she and Bastila did not look particularly impressive on their own, but the grizzled Mandalorian veteran was particularly impressive enough for both of them. He grunted in response, and the Czerka rep smiled outright. 

“Right. Here are your fees, landing, services, licensing. And have a good day, ladies.” He waited for her to transfer payment before he strode...no, strutted away, leaving Sarah watching him in confusion. 

“I don't know.” Bastila agreed, and Canderous chuckled. 

“It's Tatooine all over again. New, pretty women.” He noted, dropping a hand onto Sarah's shoulder. “Let's go get this done. Are we actually going to get what you said we came here for?”

“Probably be best.” Sarah said thoughtfully. Although this should be their last fragment under Czerka control, there was always going to be future dealings with them. “I've got the med kit on me, we'll make this look good, but...” She dropped her voice, “We get what we came here for first.”

“Do you feel it? Or do we need to try to incite a vision?” Bastila asked, pressing closely in. 

Sarah snorted, shaking her head. “That won't be necessary. It's that way.” She jerked her chin in the direction of a deep, gut twisting pull. “I feel it much stronger than the ones on Tatooine, Dantooine. Something here...feeds it, or it's more intact than the others.” She stared out into the woven canopy of dense trees. “This place is unnatural...it reeks, of something.” It wasn't an actual smell, but that's what it felt like, and she wrinkled her nose as if it were real. 

“You sense the dark side. It echoes here, more than any place you've been since you came out of the coma.” Bastila wrapped her fingers around Sarah's elbow. “Damn it, I wish we'd had more time to get you ready for this.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sarah rested her hand on Bastila's and gave it a quick squeeze. “We don't. After this is over...” That was empty and she knew it. By Bastila's shifting expression, the younger woman did as well. 

“Don't lie to me, Sarah. Don't tease me. You will never come back to us unless something happens to Carth during this. And I'll tear my heart out to make sure that doesn't happen. So...no. Don't even try. You were once my sister. But now, you are my friend. And we have a job to do.” 

Right. Sarah moved to where the Czerka rep was waving towards, and leery eyed a questionable contraption that looked as if it was the long lost great great grand aunt of a service elevator. Landing decks and elevators should not be made out of wood... She moved to it and glanced over the edge, only to see impenetrable darkness below. It was like Taris, all over again, only Taris had had better quality elevators. 

“Going down.” 

Going down took what felt like forever, a creaky, increasingly dark trip into a tree trunk filled abyss. How could someplace so alive feel so very wrong? She understood the Undercity of Taris, everything about it had made sense, but this...didn't. It was echoing, whispering, alive when she stepped off of the elevator and gazed around. At least this time, she'd bothered to bring her own pair of low light lenses, preferring to use both her force senses and tech in tandem. “That way.” She sighed, pointing. The faster they got this over with, the better... or was it? Every step forward was a step closer to Korriban. 

“Right.” Canderous grumbled, dropping a return beacon and staring in that direction. “You know, most wookiees don't even come this far down from the canopy.” 

“You know most wookiees aren't looking for a star map.” Sarah sniped back, and he only gave her a half grin in response. “You aren't worried, are you?” The grin grew to full sized, and he shook his head, slinging his rifle. 

“Nyac, adika.” 

Well, apparently Mandalorian was one of those many, many languages that she'd learned. And remembered when she remembered nothing else at all, because her brain translated without issue and helpfully supplied a list of responses, all in Mandalorian. “Who're you calling a little girl?” She demanded, and he paused with grave intensity...but his eyes danced. He walked up directly in front of her and pointedly stared...down. But his only response was to drop the palm of his hand down on her head and ruffle her hair paternally, before his sharply edged focus returned to the engulfing shadows that surrounded them. 

“Lead the way.” 

It was a long and rather surreal trek, Sarah had to keep glancing at Canderous...it felt like she was walking in circles, hopelessly lost, even with the humming pull in her soul. He was keeping an eye on their distance and bearing from the beacon at the elevator, if anybody would realize she'd gotten off path, it should be him. But he remained solidly silent. Bastila had that glassy eyed resolve that Sarah was beginning to read as fear...but then, that oppressive, thick feeling was growing with every meter that Sarah walked. 

She heard/felt it well before she saw it, and she gave Canderous a slight shrug when his comforting bulk stepped up behind her. “A force fence.” She noted... “But why?” It was only three or four meters tall. Every damn thing on Kashyyyk could climb, and climb well. There was little it could keep in...or out. She and Bastila were Jedi...both of them could just flat out jump it, and the idea that a Mandalorian would be held back by this was just laughable. If it was that easy, they'd just have erected force fences all during the War...

The ground shook, small pebbles jumping, and she snapped out her lightsabers, rolling and ducking before she even had a good idea of where the damned Basilisk was. The Mandos had been pressing hard, and nothing seemed to keep them at bay. 

“Alek! Alek!” She bellowed, boiling out of cover, scanning the area as quickly as she could. Nothing. Had they fallen back? Left her here, alone, with that Basilisk bearing down on her? And where there was one Basilisk, there were...

She was grabbed around her shoulders, yanked out of the way and crammed into a tiny space, protected by the sheer bulk of the man she had been looking for...

“Lollipops.” She vaguely registered Bastila's voice, but before she tried to even make any sense of it at all, the ground rushed up to meet her. 

###################################################

 

Bastila stood, frozen in shock. No, no, no. That had come out of nowhere, slamming in from the side. And it had been crystal clear, Malak's uncorrupted name, a battlefield...Commenor? Too much information, too fast, that would have overwhelmed Revan's programming...damn this place. The sheer amount of power it exuded, tainted, was pounding on everything that they'd done to keep Revan compliant. She'd had no other choice but to pull on Revan's programming, to shut her down while she still could. “Sarah?” She whispered, feeling the predatory weight of the Mandalorian's eyes on her. He was no fool. He'd just been getting along so well with Revan, he'd slipped in an endearment and then suddenly, bam, that had to happen. 

“Back away.” He snapped, waving her back with his rifle. “Don't go for anything.” He knelt next to Revan's, flicking his gaze between her crumpled form and Bastila. “Why?” He breathed, gently turning her over and smoothing the hair out of her face.

“She was going to crash if she kept that up. If she really, really crashes... She'll need a hospital.” And that was a possibility. Not nearly as possible as Revan remembering who and what she was, but not inconceivable. “This way, she'll go offline for a couple of minutes, and then she'll be fine.” At least Bastila hoped so. Revan had come very very close to breaking through. And she'd never actually had the trigger word used on her before... 

He made a softly displeased noise, sitting and dragging Revan's limp form into his lap. She gave no sign that it even registered, and Bastila felt more fear curl in her stomach. All of that programming had been done before Revan had been badly injured on Taris. What if she'd been holding off that injury by what Bastila had just snatched from her? Had that break in her consciousness put her back into a coma? If it had, then they were doomed.

“Carth.” She breathed, tapping her earbud to make the connection with the freighter. 

“Yeah?” He sounded fine, but he had no idea what she'd just done. If so, he'd probably share a lot with the none too happy Mandalorian staring her down. 

“I need a favor.” She breathed, moving closer to Revan and doing her best to ignore Canderous. “Call to Sarah. Tell her to wake up.” 

“What? Is she okay? What happened? Do you need a pick up?” 

“No, no.” She rested her hand on Revan's chest, feeling, measuring. No, not comatose, just out like a rock. “I just need her to wake up, she went down again.”

Canderous snorted, his eyes dark and filled with accusations. “Okay, fine. I put her to sleep, but I need her to wake up again. She was going to crash on us out here. I'll let her crash on the ship, but here, now...no.” 

“I see.”


	48. Chapter 48

“Hey. Babe. Need you to wake up now.” 

Wha? It was oddly familiar to wake up in the lap of a heavily armored man, almost cozy... It smelled familiar here as well, but she wasn't expecting to see Canderous staring down at her when she opened her eyes. 

“Su cuy'gar.” He grumbled, something had him peeved. No, pissed. His greeting was correct, but she sensed he was leaning more on the literal translation of the phrase instead of its more common use. 

“Of course I'm still alive. What the hell happened? I...don't remember.”   
Something had happened, but what? And where was she? Where were they? Her head was empty, like she'd just gotten over a terrible headache. “Carth? She'd heard him, he'd called, but he wasn't here.

“Good to hear your voice.” That came out of the earbud tucked into her ear, he was still on the ship. And they were still out here looking for map fragments. It all clicked into place and she accepted Canderous's push to get her back on her feet. 

“Bastila?” The younger woman's face was stoic, but her eyes were tragic. “What's wrong?” 

“I'm so sorry, Sarah. I felt I had to, you were slipping so fast... I put you to sleep for a little while, to break it.” Sarah stared at Bastila for a long moment, measuring. Not a lie, exactly. Bastila was hiding something, but that was hardly new. 

“You looked fine.” The Mandalorian growled, clambering to his feet. “And then you were flat on your face.” He spat, “But you know what happened, the pair of you can work it out after we're done here.” 

Right. And that would give Sarah time to figure out what had happened. If Bastila was telling the truth, then she'd done exactly what she should have. And there was no other reason that Sarah could see for it... Sarah had crashed several times without Bastila around, so obviously Bastila wasn't causing them. And she did feel much better than she normally did afterward, so maybe...

“You okay?” Carth's voice was soft in her ear, she had the gain turned up high enough to where he would have been able to hear the entire conversation around her, neither Bastila nor Canderous had been whispering. 

“Yeah. I'm good.” She sighed, staring again at the confusing fence. “You want to eavesdrop?”

“Actually, yeah. I'd like that.” And he wasn't the only one who'd feel better. Up until now, Canderous had been remarkably neutral, unaffected by the crew's relationships, patient with Mission, brusque but pleasant enough with the rest. Bastila seemed like she'd rather be any place but where she was at the moment, and Sarah reached out to touch her arm, aware that Canderous was watching every move. 

You are a part of me, you know it. I know it. Hurting me only hurts you. 

“I'd never hurt you, Sarah. You know I can't. I...” Bastila's voice faded off into silence. 

“It's fine, Bastila. We'll talk about it later. But for now...” She picked up a branch and pitched it over the fence. And heard nothing but the sound of it hitting the ground on the other side. “We see what happens.” A quick running start and Sarah vaulted over the gate, rolling gracefully to her feet. It was, as expected, the same on that side as the other...and she shrugged. “All good!” 

Bastila followed, and a few moments later, Canderous scaled the trees over the fence and dropped down beside them. “We're close.” 

It was an odd feeling approaching it...much different than approaching the others had been. Maybe it was just the horrible oppression, the scattering ground fog, the eerie, incessant forest noises...but this felt almost like deja vu, and Sarah suddenly wanted to hang back. To consider, to contemplate. And if she was alone, she most certainly would have, but she wasn't. And Bastila had already proven she was going to do whatever it took to keep Sarah from trying to remember things in such an unsecured environment.

The environment is what is familiar. When you leave here, you won't have that anymore. It will slip between your fingers like sand, like water, and be gone. 

“Sarah?” 

“I'm going, I'm going.” She could see the now quite familiar ovoid bracket of the fragment, dark and folded, but it seemed to be... She lifted her macrobinoculars and sighted in on it. “It's wired into some sort of console.” The others had not been, and the idea of a however many thousand year old contraption, sitting out in the open, in this humidity, tied to something else that could fail was a horrible thought. “With a holographic interface.” A very ugly holographic interface, but still at least powered enough to be visible. She sighed, dropped her lightsaber into a comfortable grip, and cautiously approached the interface. Whatever race that thing was, she wasn't certain, but it felt familiar. She'd dealt with these things before, and hadn't been terribly impressed with them...

“Life forms detected. Determining parameters. Initiating neural recognition. Primary neural recognition complete. Preliminary match found. Begin socialized interface. Awaiting instruction. Greetings, this terminal has not been accessed for quite some time.” The interface used a perfectly clear Galactic Basic, a little crackly in places. The video feed was also flickery, uncertain, and Sarah frowned... how much longer did it have before it failed altogether? She stared at the image, a tall, gangly thing with eyes out on stalks and a distinctly pointed head.

“Who placed this terminal here?” She asked. If she didn't have a lot of time, then she better get what she needed. She was willing to bet that this one had the same source as the one on Dantooine, but information was information and she could use all of it that she could get. 

“I can't say. Likelihood of restriction by previous user, 100%.” It replied, and she frowned. When had that been? If Revan had used it, then Revan had been a fairly recent user, probably 'previous' user. Which meant that Revan had possessed the ability to program these terminals...to lock people out...

“I need to ask questions about you and this installation.” She said, ignoring the sinking feeling in her gut. Had Revan completely locked this down? Completely denied access? If so, why hadn't Revan destroyed it completely? Could Mission slice it? 

“I utilize a retro-adapted holocron-interface. Clarify your questions and I will attempt to access original system memory.” 

A holocron? Well, that certainly answered the question of Mission's ability to slice it... in the negative. Only a force user could affect a holocron in ways beyond its standard programming, and often the requirement to be a force user to use it was part of that standard programming...

“Who built this installation in the first place?” Sarah asked, backing up slightly to crane down and get a good look at the terminal, and its attachment to... the fragment, as suspected, and to... yup. Another larger installation, buried under mulch, loam and great tree roots. Each one of the fragments so far had been a part of one of these ancient facilities, but this interface was definitely after market. Very recent. 

 

“Error. Information regarding the builders of this installation has been corrupted. No evidence of such a civilization exists in the galactic record.”

Of course not. That information hadn't even been available through the Dantooine fragment, and that one hadn't been secured like this. Why hadn't Revan secured the first one? Had its proximity to the Enclave made it too dangerous to linger? Had Revan only owned one acceptable holocron? 

“Who installed this holo interface?” She felt she already knew, but assumptions were just that, assumptions. Any answer, no matter how vague, might help her be more certain about that one. 

“This interface was installed to better access the data stored within the pre-existing system. The exact date is unavailable. Programming keys indicate no earlier than five years before current Republic standard. No other information on time of installation or identity of user available. Likelihood of removal by user, 100%.” Damn it. Revan had been able to use a holocron to affect the programming, to excise entire parts of the data. Did the star map fragment even still exist here? Could they extrapolate without it, if they had Manaan's and Korriban's as well? 

“Five years ago is about when Revan would have passed this way.” She stated, knowing that Bastila would have already come to that determination, but for some reason, Bastila was remaining silent. 

“Error. Data regarding subject 'Revan' corrupted.” The interface noted helpfully, and Sarah frowned at it. Corrupted. But not nonexistent. The interface recognized the name.. 

“But there was an entry at some time.” Revan had been here, of course. Revan had wired the interface, but hadn't been adept enough to have wiped their meddling with the programming away? It seemed difficult to swallow, only a master could have manipulated a holocron in such a fashion. Where was the holocron's gatekeeper? Was the 'interface' not actually an interface, but the gatekeeper itself? Was this all just a ruse?

“Error. Data on 'Revan' unavailable.” Uh huh. Just what... something on the edge of her perceptions stirred, rolled uncomfortably. Carth... Something was up with Carth... She stepped back, tilting her head. He'd been tied in, eavesdropping, but at some point he'd dropped the contact. 

“Bastila, see if you can raise Carth. Or Mission. Something's...off.” Not now. There was too much of a chance that breaking the interface's programmed responses if she stopped interacting with it. And just like on Dantooine, it seemed to like her much more than it even admitted Bastila existed. “What's the current function of this facility?” She continued after a pause. She couldn't do two things at once, and right now, this was vital. 

“The current function is defense.” Defense? Defense of what? Kashyyyk had little to defend, even now. 

“Defense of what?” Perhaps there was more to... the shadow of pain flicked through her perceptions, faint but undeniable...Carth. A quick glance proved that both Bastila and Canderous had moved out of usual earshot, and that the Mandalorian's stance spoke volumes. He cradled his rifle in his hands, just off of the ready, when before it had been comfortably slung. 

“Error. That information is not available.” Of course not, and now, Sarah's willingness to spend time fishing for information had evaporated. Something had gone wrong. She knew it. Canderous knew it. And Carth definitely knew it. 

“I seek information about a Star Map.” Maybe if she just came out and asked for what she wanted, it could be that easy. She could feel her focus folding in on itself, that clarity that preceded combat, that mindset in which she could achieve the impossible. 

“Accessing. Yes, I found a Star Map in original system memory. Access is restricted.” Of course it was. Ordinarily, that would have just been a minor frustration, a point to work around...now it brought a simmering rage. She didn't have time to play Revan's games. 

“What do I need to do to get access?” Somehow, she didn't think disassembly by lightsaber would work, as tempting as the prospect was. Why had she left Carth alone? If something happened to him, she'd burn this entire fucking planet down to its roots... 

“Your request requires additional security access. You must be made to match the parameters I have been supplied.”

 

“How can I match them when I don't know what they are?” Sarah hissed. Match the parameters that Revan had supplied it? How was that even going to be possible? Why would Revan have even made it a possibility? It didn't help that about half of her attention wanted to wander over to Bastila and Canderous.. neither one of them had panicked...yet, but it was obvious that whatever answer, or lack of answer, that they were getting from the Hawk wasn't calming them down one iota.

“There are measures available. Personality profiling will verify the basic structure of your conscious mind. With that, I will determine whether you are ready to receive the Star Map, or can be made ready.”

Made ready? What did that even mean? Sarah couldn't come up with a 'made ready' that didn't sound like a threat. “What do you mean by that?” Just what was this thing capable of? If you don't get the fragment, it's all over. 

“Information unavailable. If you have further questions, ask them now. Access will terminate with success or failure of evaluation.” 

Well, that definitely sounded less than promising. “Let's get this shit started, then.”

“Evaluation commencing. Results will be compared against the pattern in memory. Just act like you should. You travel with a wookiee and have encountered complications. Hypothetical: you and this Zaalbar are captured and separated. If you both remain silent, one year in prison for each of you. However, call Zaalbar a traitor, and he will serve five years, while you serve none. He is offered the same deal, but if you each accuse the other, you both serve two years. What do you do? What do you trust him to do?”

It's in my head. The holocron? How else could it know about Zaalbar? Sith holocrons are often based on reflections of their creators...perhaps Revan created the holocron. Perhaps it has Revan's sensibilities when Revan was here. Revan was dark sided then. Dark sided. Always driven. I can... It was risky to try and ride the formless rage that she felt, to focus it and use it, to add the angry, driven part of her that just wanted to throw this to the wind and go get Carth. No one fucks with what's mine. And this thing dares to fuck with me. 

“I'm unsure about Zaalbar. I'd accuse him to be safe.” That brought Bastila's full and undivided attention on to her, but Sarah didn't have the time or luxury to try and explain it. She was in charge, Bastila always let her deal with the fragments, and this was the way to go with this one. This was Revan's interface, probably Revan's holocron...and Revan's answers were the only answers. 

“The temperament of a companion is unreliable at best. You wisely trade the threat of one year or five, for none or two. In this instance, I judge the answer correct. You display the proper behavior to match the pattern in memory. Evaluation will continue.” 

“Why pit me against my companions?” Was this the underlying core to Malak's betrayal? The reason why he'd fired on Revan's flagship? Or was it deeper than that, the reason for Revan's fall in the first place? Somewhere along the way, Revan and Malak had stopped supporting each other, protecting each other, and had turned on each other. 

“They are already against you. Anything that corrupts your strength and efficiency is against you. I merely serve to illustrate the proper patterns. You must be guided to think in the proper manner.” Sarah bit her lip, staying with the mental image of Revan and Malak's fall instead of where her mind wanted to go. Carth was not against her. He did not corrupt her. He was a bulwark, not a flaw. 

“Get on with it, then.” I need to go rescue that guy who corrupts my strength and efficiency... I don't have all day. 

“Hypothetical: You are at war. Deciphering an intercepted code, you learn two things about your enemy. A single spot in their defenses will be at its weakest in ten days. And they will attack one of your cities in five days. What do you do with this information? What is the most efficient course of action?” Revan had destroyed Malachor V, large portions of the Republic Fleet...all to win the Mandalorian War. And that was before Revan's fall. The answer was obvious. 

“I prepare my forces to attack in ten days. I do nothing in the city.” From what Sarah understood, that was classic Revan strategy. Swallow the losses. 

T-Very good. If you had moved to evacuate the city, you would have alerted the enemy to their lost codes. Ultimate victory required the deaths of the people in that city. You wisely ignored sentiment in your decision. 

“The victory is irrelevant. Stopping the war saved many more people.” She stated firmly, ignoring Bastila. No matter what people said, spat out, about Revan...no matter how many atrocities the Revanchists had committed, they'd always been to bring a final, concrete end to the War. It was only afterward that things had fallen apart. 

“You achieved the proper result with logic that does not match the pattern in memory. I shall adjust my evaluation. Hypothetical: Remove the ongoing war from the previous example. Consider enemy states to be weak and remote. With no external threats, your empire stagnates. Your people become complacent and begin to question you. Same scenario as before; you discover an impending attack but also a weakness that will come later. How do you react?” 

Damn. She'd slipped up, and she didn't have time for mistakes. Dark side. Driven. “I let the attack happen.”

“Of course you do. It makes the most strategic sense. Your people will rally beneath you against the common foe. As their eyes turn outward, your rule with strengthen. The trappings of war grant many opportunities. You have matched the pattern recorded in memory, I recognize you and will fulfill my designated function.”

Great. The interface approved, how nice. “What was this for?” Certainly not for the map fragment, was it? Would she have to go through this again on Manaan? Had it imprinted 'approved' on her brain waves? “And the star map...I need access.” And quickly, before she went after Carth. 

“I am programmed to guide, not inform. Soon you will recognize the proper course to follow. The star map is yours. This unit has now completed its primary duty and has finished with the subject. Executing final action. Activation of star map commencing. Parameters reset. Stasis initiated. End communication.” The interface blinked out of existence, and she could hear the welcome click of the fragment opening. 

“What's going on?” She demanded, watching the datapad take the upload from it. “The ship?”

“T-3 states that Czerka boarded the ship and took everybody off of it. Carth. Mission. Zaalbar.” Bastila's expression was wary, haunted. “Did we do something illegal?” 

“It's Czerka.” Canderous growled, his expression dire. “We may just have not paid them enough this time. Much as I see fire and blood in your eyes, we might get out of here by throwing more credits at the problem. Unless they've hurt someone. Then it's a good day for someone else to die. Can you not feel them?” 

“I feel...Carth, or I did there for a moment. When I realized that he was in trouble.” She began to stride back towards the beacon, feeling its location call to her. “Now...” There was silence from him, he was trying hard not to broadcast his feelings. “He's wrapped himself up. But he's only minorly hurt.” 

“What's the plan?” Canderous asked easily, falling into step with her. Bastila trailed, disturbed and not bothering to hide it. 

“Depends.” Sarah stated evenly, flipping the lightsaber hilt over and over in her hand. “If they give me what I want, we leave. If they don't, I knock heads together until they do. And then we leave.”


	49. Chapter 49

Somehow, it had turned into one of those days. It had been bad enough to understand that Bastila was having trouble with Sarah, and then, this. “My name is Carth Onasi. Captain. Republic Navy.” He repeated with ponderous precision. Ordinarily, he'd also claim innocence as to any found contraband...he'd searched the ship down to her studs, but he knew he'd been found with what Czerka considered to be 'contraband', and he wasn't going to waste his breath. But their insistence on denying his very identity was beyond frustrating, and he was old enough to where being left on his knees like this ached. Of course, the fact that the two assholes questioning him were standing on his legs didn't help. And he could feel seething, simmering, building rage that seemed somehow disconnected from himself... Sarah. She was supposed to sense things, know things... They were lovers. They'd begun to make commitments to each other. This was to be expected, wasn't it?

Another drop of blood fell from his nostril and he stared at the pattern they'd created between his knees. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd been in this position, but his wild days were behind him. This was...

Mission was carrying on in a loud, piercing, glass cracking babble in a pitch only children and droids could produce. It was an improvement, she'd started this off screaming her head off, and that, combined with Zaalbar's earlier roars had driven Carth's splitting headache into a whole new level. “You just leave him alone!” She shrieked. “I swear, when I get loose, I'm gonna kill you all!” 

She sounded less, suddenly, as if he was swaddled in an overwhelming feeling of serenity and peace. Sarah. She was close. She was coming. They would pay for hitting him, pay for scaring Mission. It was a comfort, a threat, a promise. 

“Your companion... Amasri, is it?” The voice was calm, almost pleasant...he was the one that Sarah had dealt with before she'd left. And she'd deal with him when she returned. 

“Amasri Idarn.” He spat out blood, feeling his teeth with his tongue. All present, accounted for, and in the same condition...he must have bitten the side of his cheek. “She's on your databank.” He had no clue who Amasri Idarn was...or if that person even existed. All he knew was that had been Sarah's story every time she made contact with Czerka, and it was the story he was sticking to. 

“Yes. Until she vanished, eight years ago.” 

“Lots of us vanished, eight years ago.” Carth breathed slowly. Eight years ago...the beginning of the War. That was when he would have become difficult for a civilian interest like Czerka to have kept track of. And there were many who just hadn't popped up again after that. Or were slow to return, it wasn't that far fetched an idea that someone was only now coming up for air. Enough time had passed to numb much of it... 

“True. True. True.” 

“You can just wait and ask her yourself.” So very close. It was if the very air itself sang with her proximity, an intoxicating sensation. 

“That'll be awhile. Her contract is a fiddly little endeavor...and it could be a fatal one, as well.” 

Carth focused on the blood in front of him, hearing the threat under the man's words. But if this guy thought it was going to be that easy to get Sarah... he was sorely mistaken. She'd returned to health with a vengeance, and everything he'd heard, and overheard, about her retraining on Dantooine made it pretty obvious that she'd lost little of her edge as a Jedi. She might have forgotten her previous life, but that gift remained intact. The Force loves her. And she loved him. 

“Shit. It's the Mando.” The man who had his foot wedged in the bend of Carth's left knee, hissed, and Carth smiled. Canderous. And if Canderous was here, then Bastila and Sarah weren't far behind. Unfortunately, Canderous had to catch him in this less than commanding position...he lifted his eyes and stared into Canderous's stony gray eyes. 

“Well, that tears that.” The older man noted, lifting his elbows in a shrug. “It was a nice thought, though.” 

Carth barely absorbed the warning sound of an igniting lightsaber right behind him, when the weight on his legs was lifted. A head, relieved of its body, rolled...or was more probably, kicked...beyond him, launched at the Czerka officer who had been doing the questioning. 

Canderous's first shot rang out, taking the man holding Mission right between his eyes. “Let the girl go.” He stated firmly, and Carth heard Sarah laugh outright at the words. Her hand rested for a split second on his head, before she somersaulted from a standing start, landing hard enough to splinter the decking between Carth and the Czerka officer. Where was Bastila? 

“This had better be good.” Malice dripped from Sarah's words, and Carth wished it didn't sound so damned welcome. “My ship. My man. My kid. My wookiee.” Her face was eerily lit by the lightsaber, and for an odd moment, when she glanced back towards Carth, her eyes seemed to be the wrong color...a muddy, uncertain light brown. “And you do not fuck with what's mine.” 

“Come on, Carth. Let's get you up on your feet. You have to...you have to be there for her. Bring her out of this.” Bastila's voice, soft yet insistent, her grip was strong around his arm and he accepted her help to struggle to his feet, hissing when the pins and needles, the cramps, arced up his thighs. 

“Bring her out of this? But she's...” Magnificent. He'd never seen her with a lightsaber in her grip, never seen her dance while standing still, never seen her so intensely, perfectly balanced, so utterly focused. She was lit from within, a torrent of outrage, anger, protectiveness. 

“Yes, she's beautiful...until she has to pay for it, Carth. Until we all do. She's channeling the dark side, and she doesn't remember how to fight it. We'll lose her...”

He couldn't lose her, he'd just found her. And he could sense what Bastila was referring to, it hung in the air around Sarah...crackling, unsettled, untamed. 

“Please, Carth. I need your help with her.”

He froze, his eyes still locked on Sarah, busily staring down the silent Czerka officer. That was the first time that Carth had ever heard Bastila ask for help. He'd hoped she would so many times...and there it was. “Amasri. I'm okay. Mission is...” Furious, but uninjured. He wasn't certain where they'd taken Zaalbar, he could only hope that the wookiee was mostly unharmed as well. It looked as if he'd taken the brunt of it, so far. 

That unsettling, muddy gaze hopped to him, but he'd be damned if he was going to back down. Not now that he understood what was going on and what was at risk. It was painful, but he strode towards her, his hands open. “Did you get what we came here for?” 

“Yes. And apparently, we got more than we bargained for.” Her attention returned to the Czerka officer. “You look like hell warmed over, Carth...my dear.” 

He had few doubts of that. He could feel the tight swelling, the burning under his skin, his nose. Things hurt, and they were going to hurt a hundred times worse tomorrow. “Amasri.” He repeated slowly, rolling the syllables over his tongue. It was a good name, he liked the sound of it. He probably didn't need to keep up the masquerade, between Sarah and Canderous, they'd already killed at least three Czerka employees. Things had gotten real. But just in case, he'd keep it up. Better that some nebulous 'Amasri Idarn' was on Czerka's hit list than Sarah. “I'll live.”

“Oh, I know that. The question is...will he?” She pointed at the Czerka officer with her lightsaber. That one had remained stubbornly silent since the heads had started flying, watchful and cautious. “He's the one who hit you, right?” 

“Yeeesssss.” Mostly. 

“And...” She wrapped the fingers of her off hand around the nape of Carth's neck, burying them deeply into his lengthening hair, the stones of the ring she wore...the ring he'd given her...catching and pulling strands in a slight reminder. “Do you want him to get away with that?” 

“I'm willing to let him 'get away with that' if you'll calm down and come back to yourself.” No, it was not the light, not his imagination, her eyes were the wrong damned color, murky and washed out. Bastila was right. “He's not worth losing you over. None of this is! We leave here, now. Mission, Canderous, go get Zaalbar. Bastila, get the engines cycling.” He fell into command as he had so many times before, now that he was certain of what went where. Sarah was supposed to be in charge, but she was obviously incapacitated at the moment... she'd crashed earlier and was now immersed deeply in a mindset he didn't understand but knew he didn't like. Bastila was nominally next in command, but she'd directly asked for his help. They had what they'd come for, it was time to get the hell out of here. Sarah needed to sleep this off. He needed to tend to his injuries while he could still see to do it. At least Manaan was independently controlled, run by the Selkath, and they had little interest in letting Czerka play in their backyard...and Korriban was a holy place, not a corporate interest. This was probably the last contact that they would have with them on this mission, and Carth was good with that idea. He wanted to go home. He wanted to take Sarah and Bastila home. Find a home for Mission and Zaalbar. And to get there required getting through all of this. “Amasri! We go.” It was a tone he'd never used on her before, it was usually reserved for ensigns under his command, quailing under combat for the first time. 

“Right, Captain Onasi. We go, as you order. However...” She let go of him, spinning to stalk up to the Czerka officer. “You're right handed, correct?” She asked calmly, eying the datapad that the man carried. “Thought so.” She stated before he could even form a reply, spinning the lightsaber in her hand. She caught the datapad in mid air, ignoring the man's severed forearm as it fell to the decking. He screamed, a ragged, harsh shrill that both sickened and satisfied Carth. The man had just lost a limb, the same hand that he'd used to hit Carth, and there was no doubt in Carth's mind that was the point of it. “Fucking asshat.” She muttered, returning to Carth's side, her attention locked on her newly procured datapad. “Oh, nice picture of me. I like it.” She tilted the screen in Carth's direction, and he blinked. There was no doubt that he was looking at an image of Sarah, minus about a decade. 

“Very beautiful.” He agreed, truthfully. It lacked a certain edge, it looked like so many before they'd hit the War... she had a purity in it that she had lost somewhere along the way, but it had become tempered with experience. There was a depth in her eyes now that the image lacked, she wasn't the Sarah he knew in it. For better, and for worse. 

She snorted, playing with it for a long moment, before raising an eyebrow. “You were cute.” She stated, and he snatched the datapad away from her. 

He sighed, shaking his head. Czerka had been in business for a long time, and it looked as if they'd been gathering a lot of data...on him, at least. And, difficult as it was to believe now, he'd been a rangy, gangly sort of youth. His adult weight had come later; as a young militia pilot first popping up on Czerka's radar, he'd been all height and no heft, crowned with a mop of red hair. “You are such a liar.” He growled, returning it to her. She'd already seen it, the damage was done. What had been seen could not be unseen. Rather like the man curled up on the decking before him...watching Sarah act with such dismissive malice was something Carth could not purge from his memory. It was something he was going to have to come to grips with, and a lesson to be learned. She had a dark streak a parsec wide, and he was going to need to be there to pull her back from the edge, until she could be returned to Coruscant and the Temple. 

It was as if she heard him, she tilted her head quizzically towards him. It's okay.” He said, squeezing her shoulder. It didn't matter. He still wanted her. 

“He hurt you, and made Mission watch...” The start up backwash from the Hawk's engines drowned out her other words, if there had been any. And her words were valid and right, but she'd thrown down enough damage as payment for that. Carth was tired, all he wanted to do was get the hell out of here, everybody safely back on the ship, and try to patch himself up. His headache was still unrelenting, now in melody with his ship's engines cycling up. But he'd have to fly, to take off and do the jump... His show off landing had placed the Hawk in such a position that few could manage a clean take off from it. He'd just have to hang in there, for just a little bit longer. Too damned old for this shit. He was supposed to be on a bridge, overlooking everything...not in the thick of things like this. 

“They're going to shoot at us!” He yelled, regretting the need for it, and Sarah gave him a truly Sarah smile in response. Her eyes were still simmering, but the wash of pale brown had drained from them. She held up the datapad, and this time its screen showed security clearances instead of an embarrassing teenaged image of him from Telos, back from when he'd joined the Defense Force. Her wide, unconcerned shrug said it all...she had it under control. He just needed to fly, and he was good at that. 

She suddenly galvanized into a blur of motion, lightsaber trailing a glow behind her as she bolted towards where Canderous and Mission had disappeared at, leaving Carth to marvel again at the surreal speed and grace she exhibited. He smiled slightly, before turning to stagger his way towards the Hawk's ramp and making his way through the ship to the cockpit. 

“You look a little rough.” Bastila noted slowly, changing seats as he appeared. “You up to this? I can try to heal it, but it might put you to sleep...” 

And that was a big fat hell no. “When we're in jump, I'll deal with it. Sarah can take care of me then. I put us in this landing profile, I need to be the one to get us out of it.” 

“I'm sorry...” 

“It's fine, Bastila. As long as we got what we came for, and we get everybody off in one piece, we're good.” He kept a firm eye on the camera overlooking the ramp, “And there they are.” Sarah, bounding along in front, her eyes scanning for threats. An irate, glaring Mission, doing her best to look ominous. A calm Canderous, succeeding at looking ominous. And Zaalbar, looking a little worse for the wear. 

“Ramp up, hatch cycling, and...” He punched the engines, scorching the decking of the landing pad as he popped the small freighter up at a steep angle. 

“I've got the anti-aircraft quashed for a few minutes.” Sarah spoke into the mike next to the ramp. “Run like hell.”

“I'm on that, babe.” A few minutes was more than he needed, as long as they held on back there. He listened to the engines pitch and sing, felt them resonate, watched the stream of numbers flow across his main screen. A single flash on the jump screen showed green, and he throttled the ship into hyperspace. “Ow.” It was as if it had waited, held at bay, for that moment. Bastila's hand landed on his shoulder, but she wasn't the one he wanted. “Leave me alone for a minute.” 

“Okay.” He felt her stand up, push past his chair and she was gone, leaving him alone in the cockpit. He wasn't certain how long they left him there, drifting, but it was more than a few minutes... he'd almost lulled himself to sleep when he sensed Sarah's presence in the cockpit behind him. 

“Hey, flyboy.” She breathed, the copilot's chair creaking under her weight. “Don't fall asleep here. Morning's going to be a real bitch if you do.” 

She was undoubtedly correct. He wanted a shower, painkillers, and bed, in that order. And he'd only manage one where he was, but getting up for the rest seemed to be an insurmountable challenge. “Tell me you love me.” 

“I love you. And I promise to get naked in the shower with you and dab you all over with warm kolto and sing you to sleep.” 

“How can I refuse an offer like that?”


	50. Chapter 50

He was dead to the world asleep, his head pillowed on her stomach. She smoothed his hair, listening to his liquid snores. Normally he didn't snore, well, not too terribly badly. But he was now, a combination of painkillers and swelling, and his face half buried against her. She had, as promised, stripped to nothing, showered with him, dabbed him all over with warmed kolto, given him a good jolt of a painkiller, and had sung him to sleep. He was feeling absolutely no pain...nor anything else...at all. He was completely, totally relaxed. 

She sighed, turning her attention back to the datapad. Amasri Idarn, an empty, echoing name that bore her face. Or a close approximation of it, it had been awhile since she'd looked like that. According to the 'pad, it had been ten years ago. She didn't need the helpful little note that suggested she had dropped out of sight at a time that roughly correlated to the beginning plays in the War. Czerka was brilliant with that deduction. 

Carth Onasi...the first record and image of him showed an impossibly young man who barely resembled what he would grow into. “You were a skinny thing, flyboy.” She murmured, but he remained far away. “And what's up with the hair?” Flipping through the images, it was obvious that it had steadily darkened as he'd matured, finally settling on its current chestnut brown in his late twenties. 

The knock at the door startled her, she'd been so immersed that she hadn't felt Bastila's approach at all. “Come in.” Sarah was dressed in night clothes and Carth...well, he was covered. 

“I've got the med bay set up, I've been expecting the two of you...oh. I thought I heard you talking.” Bastila bit her lower lip, staring at Carth like she expected him to jump up and yell 'Boo!'

“No, I was talking. I don't think he's listening, though. He doesn't need the med bay, he's fine how he is.” Tomorrow might be a different matter altogether, but for right then, he was just where he needed to be. “You won't wake him up.”

Bastila nodded, sitting on the end of the bed and managed to avoid even coming close to touching Carth, even though he was taking up the majority of the bed. “And you? You're okay?” 

Ah, that. Sarah dropped the datapad next to her and frowned. “I feel like I was an idiot and I'm not sure what happened exactly. The whole day seems like a blur.” Whole sections were missing, like she had magically appeared in different places, and she had a dull headache clinging to her temples. 

“You started to slide on our way to the fragment. You were going to crash, so I tried putting you to sleep for a minute, hoping to break it.” 

The truth, mostly. That was always the way with Bastila, her words were truthful, but something always rang false. “And then, the interface got inside my head.”

“Yes. I think both together, then having this happen...” Bastila waved at Carth, “Cut your resistance to nil. You were weakened, you got angry, outraged, scared and you lost control. But you came back. How is he, really?” 

“He's okay, Bastila. Got a little roughed up. I think everything's probably bruised, including his pride.” That was easy to say with him peacefully asleep next to her. Earlier, it had not been so. “I...overreacted.” It had been like some other part of herself had taken over, clicked into place and had done what it felt needed to be done. 

“Probably not. The chances were that those two would have hurt Carth, killed him. Removing them was the safe, expedient action to protect him. They felt no pain.” 

True. That part had been obvious. Her heart had seized up when she'd gotten her first good look at the scene, and everything screamed that she had to take out the two men holding him down before either one of them had the chance to get a shot off. “I cut a man's arm off.” And I don't feel an inkling of remorse. 

“You don't remember it, Sarah.” Bastila intoned slowly, “But you and Carth share something that touched both of your souls. You both learned to fight from the Mandalorians, who are masters of it. And you both were present for, and survived, Malachor V. You've done a lot worse than cut off an arm. Was it wrong? Possibly. Probably.”

Malachor V. I was late...I almost didn't make it in time. But the Swiftsure was there, on time. Karath's ship. Onasi's ship. 

 

“I was there.” It was not a question. Bastila was finally giving her information, something. 

“You were. He was. You both entered the War early, and stayed for the end. All of our Revanchists went through a hellish war, and at the end of it, the only honor and respect you'd earned was from the enemy and the military. Your own Order turned on you, but you kept on...because you thought you were doing the right thing in spite of it all.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Why? To put you...the way you fight, the way you react, into some sort of context, Sarah. You're not broken, you're trained. You can't have been through years of combat against the Mandalorians, and not be.” 

“Would you have come with us?” Bastila was still painfully young, she would have been a teenager when it had all erupted. 

Bastila made a soft, pained sound, coming off of the bed. She moved around, wrapping her fingers around Sarah's face and staring into her eyes. “I tried. You told me to stay. You...you said I would need you later, and now I understand. You said they would need me later, and now I understand. But now...now I come with you. All of the way to the end, whatever it takes. Just like during the War, I learned from the best. I learned from you. This has got to be done, and you're the one to get it done. And we're at the point where we can't replace anybody...we can't replace Carth. We can't replace you, me, Mission, Canderous, Zaalbar. This is it, Sarah. And if to keep it intact means cutting off a few arms...please, cut off a few arms. Czerka supports the Sith, anyway.” 

“Hmmm. How are the others?” She'd been so worried about Carth that his care and feeding had eclipsed the others. Of course, he'd also looked the worst... 

“Canderous is fine, of course. Mission is switching between ranting jags and crying jags...she's worried as hell over Carth, and driving Zaalbar crazy. Zaalbar is...well, I don't understand a word he says, but he seems okay. We're kind of just waiting for Mission to run out of steam and fall asleep, but that may take awhile.”

“I'm coming. Let me extricate myself here...” Carth murmured unhappily when she slid out from underneath his head, but gave no other protest, giving one deep sigh and remaining motionless. “And Bastila...” The younger woman turned, a quizzical brow raised. “I think you're doing a great job here.”

“...Thank you.” 

Sarah nodded, moving into the interior of the ship. As noted, Canderous was perfectly fine, helmet on the table beside him, foot propped up, leaned back in a chair, rifle in his lap. “I assume he's okay.” He said by way of greeting, “Since he's not in the med bay.” 

“That's a safe assumption.” If Carth was bad off, he'd be in the med bay. If he was really bad off, they'd be en route to the nearest Republic Naval base. He was simply bar fight bad off. 

“Good.” He said, returning his attention to cleaning his rifle. 

“Sarah? Sarah!” Mission pelted around the corner, barreling into Sarah, burying her face in Sarah's shoulder. “He's okay, right? Right? Right?” 

“Carth's fine, Mission. He's asleep right now. We're all just fine.”

.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`..`.`

 

Carth woke, feeling anything but 'just fine'. “Ah, shit.” He swore, opening...one...of his eyes. Sarah was asleep next to him, curled up tightly, the soles of her feet resting against his hip. He felt every one of his thirty eight years, and thirty eight more as well. Unfortunately, his bladder was taking no pity on him, and he was going to have to stand up. 

“Wha'?” She asked sleepily when he finally committed, sitting upright on the edge of his bed and marveling at the thundering throb of his entire body. The game was 'what didn't hurt?' instead of 'what hurts?'. And with this set up, the 'fresher was a pretty decent walk through the ship. His lounge pants were laid out on the foot of the bed and he cautiously crawled into them, hissing and gritting his teeth. 

“How long have I been out?” Not long enough, he'd guess, but long enough for everything to start screaming in protest. She sat up, rumpled and sexy as hell, and squinted at the chronometer next to her. 

“Eh... Fourteen hours.” She shrugged. “Not too bad. So we're about..two days out of Manaan.” 

“Uh huh.” And in two days, he'd look like a real piece of work. Experience told him that. “Manaan is civilized, right?” What he actually knew about it would fit in a caf cup. It produced kolto. That should make it a priority world, but it was independently held and the Republic didn't have a strong presence there. He'd never actually been there before. 

She paused, then shook her head and gathered up the supplies she'd opened the day before. “Define...civilized.” She said with a shrug. “You can get a good haircut there. You probably won't be mugged, and the Selkath are pretty honest. It's clean and sparkling, nice restaurants, the best seafood in the galaxy. I haven't seen a hutt there, but it will be crawling with Sith. This...” She touched his face, “May actually help. Without it, the chances that you'd be recognized there are high. And the Selkath are not my favorite bunch in the galaxy. You can only sit on the fence so long before your ass goes numb and you fall off. We keep our mouths shut, avoid the Sith, avoid the kolto merchants, get what we came for...and leave.” 

“I could use a good haircut and the best seafood in the galaxy sounds pretty damn interesting.” He stared at the door, gathered his strength, and stood. His progress there, and then on through to the 'fresher was a slow and painful shuffle. The ship was entirely too small for his appearance to go unnoticed, Canderous and Bastila both watched him pass by the lounge. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.” He muttered, finally making the private safety of the 'fresher. Sarah slipped in behind him, shutting the door firmly. 

“We've all been there.” She said, stripping and stepping into the shower. “Do your business and join me.” 

He sighed, shaking his head, but complied. The sound of the water was enough to force the issue anyway, and he was certain she knew it. “No blood?” She demanded from the shower and he snorted. So that's what she was here for, to check his urine. Great. 

“No. No blood. No real cheap shots.” No, no blood. No real cheap shots, but he was blotched with lividly dark bruises. Chest, arms, abdomen...the backs of his legs. He didn't even want to see his face. He turned and stepped in with her, leaning into the farthest corner of the shower, forehead against the wall. She stroked his back gently, her hands very warm and soothing. 

“Let's see if I can remember how to do this, turn around.” 

Oh, if she thought he was up to anything even remotely fun, she was sorely deluded. But he obediently turned, closing his eye when she wrapped her fingers around his jaw, the tips resting up on his brows, one of her thumbs against his split lip. He felt suddenly light, giddy, warm, and he sank to his knees, his forehead against her belly. No matter where this takes me...I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

“Feel better?” 

“Absolutely.” He could open both of his eyes, and the pulling discomfort of the swelling had abated. He still ached, but it wasn't the gnawing center of his being any longer. It had pulled back to the point where there was interest in his current position, and he rested his hands against the swell of her ass, breathing in the scent of her. 

“Not going to happen today.” She chuckled, finger combing his wet hair into a straight on end disaster. “I want you to take it easy for awhile, flyboy.”

“Damn.” She was probably right. “So. Seafood?” 

“Will I let you buy me some? Of course.” She helped him back to his feet. “When we arrive at Manaan. Since we seem to flee afterward, we better do it first.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He scrubbed his hair, it was getting long. But did it really matter? It wasn't like he was in uniform. It wasn't like he was the Old Man on a Hammerhead's bridge. He was the under-dressed pilot of a tramp freighter. If he let himself go a little, it would only fit. “Do you think I need a haircut?” 

“Hell, no.” She scrunched her face up. “You're on vacation. Roll with it. I don't cut mine, you don't cut yours. You're free from the Fleet, I'm free from the Order and the hospital, and whatever else I'm supposed to be doing but I don't remember. So we'll lounge around for the next couple of days, hit Manaan, get a couple of all you can eat seafood meals and...find the fragment.”

“You make it sound so easy.” But she was the one actually out there going to get them, usually he just ship-sat. But then, she hadn't seemed to have much trouble in finding them, why would Manaan be any different?

“I know. And eventually, it won't be. We've been very lucky.” 

“I know.” He pulled her close, folding his arms around her shoulders. He had no illusions, what had happened on Kashyyyk had been a hiccup, nothing more. An unpleasant hiccup, but it hadn't even thrown them off of schedule. He'd been in more danger on the Endar Spire, she'd come much closer to death on Taris. “But you'll get it done. I know that. And then, we'll see where it all takes us.”


	51. Chapter 51

Manaan. Sarah stood on the spaceport walk at Ahto City and stared into the vast horizon of water meeting sky. Mission stood beside her, transfixed into rare silence. “Wow.” Carth said from his vantage point on Sarah's other side, “That is pretty damned amazing, I'll give it that.” 

Water...as far as her eyes could see, blurring into a bright blue sky. And out there, she felt it calling... the fragment. Under those waves. 

“It's wonderful!” Mission finally found her voice. “It's so pretty! And clean! Are you sure I'm allowed here?” 

Sarah chuckled, the one who would draw uncertain Selkath glances today would have to be Carth, not Mission. The bruising had settled into lurid, patchy, purple and green splotches, only slightly hidden behind his glasses. He looked about as far from what he actually was as it was possible for him to manage, long haired, unshaven, battered and out of uniform.

“You'll be fine.” Just don't steal anything. What a motley group they had here, Sarah paused to take a look at them without the comfort of knowing who and what they were, what they were doing. To see what others would see when they were looked at, and to judge what the Sith here might assume. Just a scruffy looking independent freighter crew, a little down on their luck, the galaxy was full of them, good. “Let's go get lunch, and then maybe...rooms.” It would be great to just get off of the ship for a little bit, and perhaps manage to brighten Carth's mood. He'd been off since Kashyyyk, not really sulky, just a little distant and quiet. His pride had been wounded, he was afraid...

And he was not terribly difficult to read. He had been much more shadowed in the beginning, but as time passed, as they strengthened the relationship, it shone through with such clarity. He was afraid she thought less of him, found him less attractive. It was a laughable idea, but to even bring it up would just reinforce it. When he was well enough to play, she'd make him very, very certain that he knew better...

“Stop staring at him like he's some sort of dessert.” Bastila grumbled under her breath, and Sarah chuckled outright. So uptight, so...naive. It hadn't taken Sarah long to realize just how uncomfortable Bastila was, bound to her during those moments. Sad, but Sarah had no intentions of denying herself just because it bothered Bastila. After this was all over, they'd just have to look into having it...if not broken, then lessened, for all of their sanities. Bastila had done nothing to deserve being bound to someone getting what she couldn't have. Except for the obvious... it was something that Sarah couldn't have had before, except...she had. Carth was not her first. 

“Carth a la mode.” Now, there was an idea... And she deserved the smack that Bastila gave her in reply. Carth's responding smile was more than worth the mock blow...even if he was shaking his head in a vehement negative. 

“No. Too damned cold. You'll have to come up with something a little...warmer.” 

“Is that a challenge?” She hopped to keep up with him, and he shook his head, striding towards the spaceport entrance with a purpose, trailing a wide eyed Mission and a silent Zaalbar behind him. 

“No. Your challenge is finding a place where we can all eat lunch together. I'm sure you can come up with something warmer with a minimum of thought.” 

Probably. No, definitely. 

They strode into the expanse of the main Ahto City spaceport, a brilliantly clean, sparkling edifice of windows designed to show off the breathless views just beyond. “Oooooo.” Mission whispered, suddenly clinging closely to Sarah and Carth's protective area. He responded by wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her snugly up to his side. 

“Visitor's kiosk.” Sarah chuckled, moving towards it, and planting a wide, open smile on her face. The Selkath were sticklers for order, and unfortunately, they didn't have all of their affairs in nearly the level of order that the Selkath would prefer. She had two Jedi, one Republic Captain, a wookiee, one undocumented twi'lek teenager and an unregistered freighter. That was fine, the Selkath weren't particularly noted for their resistance to force persuasion techniques. 

“Hey. Here to pay for the orange and white Dynamic. And crew. Estimated stay...one week.” At least she hoped so. Manaan wasn't like the other worlds, she couldn't just walk to the fragment. 

“Here for kolto?” The Selkath manning the kiosk asked, pulling dubiously at the dangle of flesh next to his broad mouth. He had a striking white and black pattern across his gleaming skin, and he stood a few inches taller than Sarah. “We have stringent restrictions on its export...” 

“No...no kolto. Luxury goods, pearls.” If she had a ring glowing with them, then obviously Manaan must source them. “Possibly passengers if the stars align. Mostly we're just transiting through. It gets old on the ship, you know?” She knew he didn't...Selkath rarely left Manaan. Mission was helping the charade, gushing enthusiastically over the view from the windows while Carth stood paternally beside her, occasionally nodding. “What's the point of working for yourself if you don't bother to see the galaxy while you're at it?” 

“Indeed.” She wasn't expecting a truly thoughtful answer from him, and she paused in her patter to consider him. “A view not shared by many who go beyond the horizons, but never stop to admire what they see. Welcome to Manaan. Any questions?”

“Restaurant for lunch? Not fancy...like to treat my crew to a sit down, so I need someplace that won't look sideways at the wookiee...or the Mando.”

He nodded, quickly rummaging through a drawer and handing her a plastic card. “Good food. Good prices. No pretension.” 

“Thanks, just what I'm looking for.” She took it, and waited for him to calculate their fees, taking the stub for that as well. “Let's go.” 

 

All one can eat seafood on the best planet in the galaxy for seafood, it seemed like a wonder and a recipe for disaster. Sarah was so stuffed on fried clams and broiled mussels washed down with a brilliantly matched beer that she had to concentrate on holding her eyelids open. All she wanted to do was curl up on the booth seat, her head in Carth's lap, and go to sleep. He wasn't much sprightlier than she was, his words were not slurred, but he spoke slowly, relaxed...the lines at the corners of his eyes had faded. Canderous had become more talkative, bantering back and forth with Mission. Only Bastila still felt stressed and distressed and Sarah eyed her thoughtfully. So much responsibility for one so young, and she seemed so attached to it, so unwilling to share it with Sarah. 

“Do you feel it?” Bastila finally asked, and Sarah paused, listening. Yes, she felt it...the currents over water over it muted it somewhat, but laid over it was a grinding, angry mutter. It was close, but distant from the cozy, dark restaurant. 

“I hear it. And I hear something else as well. Something hostile. Something very angry.” Well, there went Carth's utterly relaxed demeanor. She squeezed his knee under the table, reassuringly. “Lightsabers work just fine underwater.” 

“You don't work just fine underwater.” He grumbled, peering into his glass. “What is this stuff anyway?”

“Lemon shandy. A real manly man beer.” She'd done the ordering, Selkath was yet another one of those languages that she grasped so well. “I'll be careful, Carth. I promise.” As careful as she could be, while still getting the job done. They'd come too far already, too much rode on this... The Republic, the Jedi Order. All of it hung in the balance, depending on this carbohydrate sluggish handful of mismatched people. 

“I'll debate if this is actually beer.” Canderous laughed, a rare and wonderful sound. “Pretty sure it's actually lemonade masquerading under a beer label. Who're you taking down for this one?” 

“I don't know. Depends on how I can get there. I'm less worried about watching the ship and more worried about keeping an eye on the Sith.” It wasn't terrible down here, this area was heavily populated with Selkath, but up on the higher level, that was crawling with Republic officers who had a good chance of recognizing Carth Onasi and Bastila Shan, and just as many Sith officers around up there. They can recognize Carth and Bastila. But can they recognize me? Am I known? Bastila is known because she's served with the Navy, but didn't I? I went to the War. I was at Malachor... Why don't we ever talk about that? 

“One thing at a time, Sarah. One thing at a time. Please. We will talk about it all, in due time.” Bastila said, and Mission glanced at her as if she'd grown an extra arm, but Carth looked less than surprised at the seemingly random interjection. 

“I feel like I'm trying to save the galaxy with only half of the instruction manual, Bastila. What if someone recognizes me? I don't even know if that's a danger. I know I should worry about you being recognized by the Sith. I know I should worry about him being recognized by the Sith. Should I be worried about me being recognized by the Sith?” She hissed, toning her voice to carry only far enough to be heard by the table. 

Bastila went very pale, very still, and Sarah regretted the question. But there was no bringing it back now, it was gone. “Yes.” Bastila finally spoke. “You should be worried, Sarah. Your instincts about this are correct. Please be careful.” 

Be careful. Go to Korriban. Be careful. Go to Korriban. Who was fooling who here? You'll be recognized...but go to Korriban. 

“I know, Sarah! Damn it all!” 

“Well, I'm all up for shooting Sith if they become a problem.” Canderous stated blandly, breaking the heightening mood as if it was nothing at all. Carth twitched for a second under Sarah's hand before he laughed, shaking his head. “In fact, it sounds like fun. Which one of you would make the best bait?” 

“Bastila. And no, it's not going to happen.” Sarah said, sitting back. This would have just have to wait until afterward. “We're good. I'll stop pushing.” For now. Nothing would change what was going on, for right now, this was counterproductive. And she sensed this wasn't Bastila's fault, this was the Enclave Council's doing. Whatever it was. They'd made it this far... it was just a little bit farther. 

“Are we done here?” Carth asked, pushing his empty plate away. “I can't eat another bite, and that hotel idea is beginning to sound really good right about now. It was great, though. Thanks.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. He seemed to be feeling much, much better, and she was relieved to see it. 

“Agreed. I'm stuffed.”

Sarah paid their bill and led the way back into Ahto City, casting her gaze across the brightly lit span. So many people here who didn't belong, this wasn't how she...remembered?...this place to have been. The Sith watched, waited, measured. Nothing new there. The Republic recruited. That was the part that felt off, even in these straitened times, why would the Republic throw such weight behind recruitment on a lightly populated, neutral world? The Selkath were not a recruitment pool, and most of the traffic on the world should be from kolto dealers. Something was off, something had attracted interest from a most unlikely of groups... mercenaries. Her eyes fell on the group trailing her progress. Canderous couldn't help but scream Mando, and he wouldn't attempt to look like anything else. Worse, he screamed veteran Mando, tightly integrated into the crew. Carth had lost weight and gained an edge that wore him well, watchful and protective. It was a stare echoed by Bastila, it seemed like the farther they got, the more focused she became. Mission looked like a child, and openly displayed a pair of blasters hanging comfortably at her side. And Zaalbar was a weapon. They attracted too much attention here, she could feel the interest of too many pairs of eyes. Manaan was supposed to be easy, damn it... What was the Republic up to, here? So much attention ran the risk of Carth being recognized. Of Bastila. Of...her?

“Let's go.” She sighed, hopping into motion before any one of these people took her pause as an invitation to approach. She was full. She wanted a bath. Clean clothes. And a bed...preferably with her flyboy of choice doing more than his fair share of bed warming. 

It was easy to get rooms, obviously the large population of mercenaries that didn't seem to belong on Manaan were not choosing fairly decent hotels on one of the upper levels. But then, they were also not financially supported by the Enclave, and probably had to watch their pennies. 

“I ate toooooooo much.” Carth breathed, closing the door behind him and surveying the room. It was a nice one, more than acceptable, and Sarah moved to the windows overlooking the ocean, feeling the pulse of the fragment call to her. So close. And yet, so far. 

She felt him come up behind her, resting his chin against her shoulder, his hands on her hips. “It was good, though.” She chuckled in answer, and she could feel him smile. 

“I will never forget it.” He promised and for some reason, he sounded almost melancholy. She reached up to him, resting her palm against his cheek and winding her fingers in his hair. She should be able to say something appropriately supportive to raise his suddenly flagging spirits. Instead, his words simply echoed in her soul. 

“It's been...well, it's been my whole life.” Other than a hellishly long stay in a hospital and a ridiculously short stay on the Endar Spire, this had been just that...Sarah's entire life, all wrapped up. Just a handful of months, and he had been at the center of it the whole way. “I love you.” 

His grip tightened on her hips, she felt his smile fade completely as he buried his face in the fall of her hair. “Sarah...I love you. When this is all over, I want to be with you. For the rest of my life.” 

“You are with me. There isn't a 'when this is all over', Carth. Now. Later.”

“No, Sarah. I'm asking...” 

“I know what you're asking. And I've already said yes.” I am never letting go of you. Ever. “But yes. When this is all over, we can make it all pretty and official... put a flower and a bow on it. But that's all that will be, it won't make it more than it already is.” You are mine. I...I am yours. 

“You already have the ring.” 

“I do.” And it was most certainly suitable. She wanted no more, she wanted no other. “Bath?” She'd popped for a room with a bath large enough for two and she fully intended to avail herself of it. With him. And then she intended to nap off her bellyful of food. 

“Bath.” He agreed, stepping back and shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it haphazardly over a chair in the corner. “Nap.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”


	52. Chapter 52

The room was shadowed when Sarah slipped into wakefulness, Carth wrapped around her. He would wake up soon on his own, his breathing was light, his sleep fitful. He was warm, comforting, and she felt safe where she was. More than that, he banished the gnawing, growling loneliness, the feeling that she was desperately out of place where she was. When he was there, she was able to focus on the present, the future, without having her obscured past run mocking circles around in her mind.

“Good morning.” She said when his breath caught slightly and he shifted. “Well, good evening.” It was probably mid to late afternoon, still quite light outside, but the sun had shifted behind the hotel.

“Hmmmmm.” He replied, “Plans for tonight? It's...afternoon. Can probably still get some things done if you wanted to. Make the 'shopping trip' look good.”

She nodded, wiggling out of his grasp. He was right, the Selkath were sticklers for law and order, and the last thing she needed was to have them put her under any more surveillance than she was already under. And she had no idea how long it was going to take to work out just how she was going to get to that beckoning fragment under the waves.

“You're right. If the passenger thing comes up, refer them to me. I'll make certain we aren't headed in the same direction as any volunteers. I'll give you cash, you know what I told them we were here for. Go buy luxury crap.”

“Right. Buy luxury crap. And then, maybe we can have a drink later? To...uh...celebrate? Just the two of us? I'd thought dinner but I still can't eat another bite.”

“Sounds wonderful.” She said truthfully, pulling a fresh change of clothes out of her bag and dressing...feeling the weight of his eyes on her body. He was most certainly on the mend. He dressed as well, and they stepped out of their room into a silent corridor, and from there, out into the now muted brilliance of the city. “You take that side...” she pointed to the trade corridor running to her right, “And I'll take the other. Buy pretties.”

“Certainly.” He sighed as if the task she'd just given him was grave, and for him...it might just be.

 

She was deep in an inspection of a metallic trim heavily inset with off red and dark gray pearls and copper beadings, for some reason it appealed to her deeper than just a need to 'buy pretties' when she realized she'd been so involved with it that she had completely missed the young man in a Republic uniform standing next to her. Stupid. Oblivious. Fool.

“You're the woman traveling with the Mandalorian.” He began slowly once he had her attention. “And some other...interesting...looking sorts. I'm Lieutenant Hazen, Republic Army. And you are...?”

“You can call me Sarah.” Somehow, she didn't want to share with this one. The very thought of even giving him the name she'd used with Czerka seemed like a bad, bad idea. “And yes, I'm traveling with a Mandalorian.”

Don't brush him off...he has what you're looking for.

“But you aren't Mandalorian.” Obviously not, so Sarah merely shrugged and went back to running the trim through her fingertips. I want this. No, I need this. I will need this. Later. She motioned to the merchant watching her warily.

“I'll take it all.” It was going to be pricey as hell, but damn it, she was out here on this fool's errand, the Enclave could pay her for it...and they were going to. Hadn't she brought back Bastila, intact? And brought back Revan's memories to start this whole thing off? A few meters of trim was a small price to pay indeed. “And...those.” Matching buckles, plates and tips...why, she didn't know...and she honestly didn't care. An added bonus was that the purchase seemed to unbalance the young man doing his best to seem like everything was perfectly normal. “I've never claimed to be Mandalorian.” She'd never claimed to be anything at all to him or his. With the exception of her time on the Endar Spire, she couldn't remember any of her military past. She should appear as just what she was aiming to look like, an independent freighter captain, possibly a veteran, but possibly not. But she was mostly certainly not Mandalorian.

“We're in the market for a few good people, ones that can be counted on to...” He waved his hand vaguely, “...Keep things to themselves, if you know what I mean. An independent crew could be just what we're looking for.”

“I'm listening.” Carth would not tolerate this, but everything in her told her that this was what she'd been looking for.

“We've lost contact with an...outpost...of ours. We just need someone to go take a quick look and see what's happened.”

You shouldn't have an outpost on Manaan. You've either run into trouble trying to process kolto behind the Selkaths' backs, or you've run into some sort of trouble with the fragment. Each one of them has been in a Builders' temple or complex. Either way, this is where I want to go, and you'll get me down there. Better yet, you'll get me down there in secret.

“I can do that.” She agreed slowly, watching the flick of emotions cross his face. He'd been hoping for Canderous, not her, but now that she'd accepted, he was stuck. “Tomorrow morning...and I assume you have a way to get me down there.”

“I do. Early tomorrow morning, in bay 6. That way...” He pointed beyond her, towards the farthest corridor leading away from the broad open expanse of the main throughway. “There's only enough room in the skiff for one...”

“That's fine, if I don't come back you really will get the Mandalorian. And he will not be a happy Mando, I promise.” Go on. We're done here. I have a date.

“Ah. Right. I guess we're done here, you probably have other things to do...” He backed warily away, confusion evident on his expression. She watched him go until he was well and gone, before returning her attention to the job of spending the Enclave's money. Why it felt so right, she didn't know, but she knew enough to not argue with it. Unlike her earlier visitor, she felt Carth the moment he stepped into her vicinity.

“Who's the pup?” He asked mildly, his gaze locked on where the Republic officer had disappeared at. “He's so new he still still squeaks when he walks.”

She chuckled, it was an accurate assessment indeed. “The pup is my way down to the fragment. They've got a problem with an outpost.”

“We have outposts on Manaan?” He sounded immediately dubious, and she snorted in answer.

“The Republic shouldn't. Neither should the Sith.” But that was whatever it was. She'd find out soon enough, in the morning. “You done spending money?”

“I am. Found a load of...” Uncertainty crossed his features, doubt, and then he shrugged. “The finest shark leather produced. For you. You'll...”

“Need it for something. That feeling seems to be flowing strongly today.” She sighed, taking the crate that the shop keep passed to her. She was already aware that Carth had a strand of force awareness flowing through him. He would sire children strong in it, for some reason those who had just a trickle, a faint potential, did the best when paired with a strong force user.

“Yeah, it does.” He took the crate from her, yanking slightly when she was slow to give it up. “The leather will be delivered to the Hawk. I'll carry this, we'll stow it, and then...that drink.”

She considered arguing the point, after all, he still wasn't a hundred percent, but decided to just let it go. If he felt up to it, well, she'd just have to trust him. “Sounds like a plan.”

And it was a fine plan indeed. He chose a small, intimate bar not far from where they'd had lunch...someplace where they didn't stand out. “So.” He breathed softly, “Korriban. How do you want to play that?”

Oh, and if she only knew. Her mind was full of what she shouldn't do, but very little of what she should do. On the surface, it was impossible. Beyond foolish, suicide or worse. “I won't take Bastila there. I won't take Mission. We shouldn't even take the Hawk.” She shouldn't take him there, either. She shouldn't even take herself there... “I feel like a parent who's snuck away from the kids to have a deep, dark conversation that involves them, but I don't think they have a say in.”

He sighed, nodded. “Sarah. Mission is a kid. And Bastila...well, she's worse. Bluntly, if we lost Mission, it wouldn't change a damn thing in the big picture. But if we lose Bastila, we've lost it all...” His attention shifted, his eyes narrowing. “Do you know the guy in the corner? He's watching you.”

She crunched the ice in her drink down with a swizzle stick, glancing over Carth's shoulder. She'd chosen to sit with her back to the bar because the view from that mirror was more advantageous than actually facing outwards. Not a young man by any means, and he was most certainly staring at her. He was trying to be subtle, surreptitious, but he was failing. After all, Carth had noticed. But then, Carth was growing more and more watchful as time went on...

“The Sith officer?” She mumbled, dropping her eyes back down to her drink. It was a guess, but even in civvies, that was exactly what he felt like. They all had a certain rigidity that they just couldn't seem to relax out of. A nice looking guy...she wasn't sure what they were fed to give them all that angular regularity, but it seemed to be regulation.

“Is that what he is?” The lines at the corners of Carth's eyes deepened as he scowled. It lifted immediately when she reached across and took his hands, rubbing her thumbs against the back of his hands. She eased them open, pressing a kiss into each of his palms. His answering stare was puzzled but, as she was counting on, it was edged with a sudden interest. “Can you read him?”

She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his palm. His comforting proximity made the jump off easier, she felt more than safe enough to let go. The man was not an easy read, he masked well, but the overwhelming response was doubt, uncertainty. He thought he knew her. He thought he recognized her, but he rejected that very idea as an impossibility. He utterly refused to believe it.

“ _That's right_.” She pushed back. “ _You don't know me. You've never seen me before. You have no clue who I am_.”

And, in spite of his strong masking, he crumbled under the weight of the manipulation she'd used against him. As if... she shook her head. No, she didn't know him either. Or she didn't remember him...that was always how it was. But it was like she already had hooks in his soul, like he'd already been bent to her will.

“ _Pay your bill and leave_.”

Without a reaction, the man simply stood, dropped credits on the table, and was gone.

“You know, Sarah.” Carth said, watching him go. “That will always be disturbing. I will never...”

You'll never be comfortable with it, yes, I know.

“I know, but it's a useful tool. He thought he recognized me, but he wouldn't let himself believe it. No idea why. He was weak, easily influenced. I'm almost disappointed.” She held up her empty glass, remaining silent until a full glass replaced it. “As for my plans, I want to leave the Hawk and crew on Nar Shaddaa. It's one of the few places we could find transport to Korriban from, without too many questions. Just you and me.” She'd want Canderous to take over the ship then, he was the only one she trusted to do what they needed done. “We send the message to Nar Shaddaa tonight. We keep it to ourselves until...well, after here. I can bolster you to the point where Bastila will not be able to read you. There are a thousand reasons why I would do that to you anyway.” There was no way she'd take him onto Korriban without that support. “If you choose to let me.” She could probably do it without his consent, but it'd be better done with it. Carth was stubborn enough, had a large enough spark of force sensitivity, was closely enough tied to her that he had a pretty decent chance of putting up a fight against her. For every promise he'd made to her, she'd made equal back to him. She'd given as much as she'd gotten.

He paused, obviously contemplating the request. Good...he wasn't just going to give her an unthinking agreement. But he had to see the value in it, there was no way he'd dodge Bastila without it, much less Sith on a holy world...

“It's got to be done.” He said slowly, beginning to pick little balls of fiber off of his cocktail napkin. “I won't make it three feet on Korriban without this, will I? And I promised you, I will be with you through all of this. What do I have to do?”

“Not much. Let me in. Let me work.” It shouldn't be difficult, they'd already taken the first steps there. It would just be another stage, another level, in making him into what he needed to be to get this done. And if there was an afterward, it could stand him in good stead later. “Let's go get it done.” Now, before Bastila was clued in and tried to become involved.

“Sure.” He dropped the napkin, paid the bill and followed her out. It took her a good amount of wandering until she found a quiet, empty terrace over the waves, lit by spangles of starlight and some ambient light from the city. “Do you know what you're doing?” He asked, “I mean...”

“Wary about letting the brain damaged Jedi muck around with your brains?” That only made sense. But the only other Jedi they had access to would be Bastila, and that was wrong on so many levels. What was the point of hiding things from Bastila by giving her access to everything in his head? And everything in his head was nothing she wanted Bastila to touch. He was Sarah's...that intimacy should belong to her alone. “I'll be gentle, I promise.”

He snorted outright at her teasing tone. “Fine. What do I do? Stand? Sit? Lie down?”

“Prone is always a safe position. Impossible to fall down from it.” She moved up to him, resting her face in that perfect place in his shoulder. This had to be done. And she was the only one to do it. Shying away from it was not an option. He sat, and she followed him down, closing her mind to her surroundings, to everything but him. His breathing, his pulse, the heat he radiated. “Relax. Float. Just...”

Reality fell away. It hadn't even been a challenge, a struggle. It was startling, frightening, too damned easy. Nononono. Get a grip. You're responsible for this, it's so easy because he trusts you. Be worthy of that trust.

“ _I'm not worthy of you, Sarah_.” His voice, in his own head, weighty and sad. That was what he wanted her to take away from this? Now? After he'd given, promised, and proposed? Bullshit. “ _I saved his life, Sarah. Why? I saved his life...and he repaid me by killing my wife. My son. My world. I loved him like a father... I wish I'd left him to die.”_

“ _And I will help you avenge their loss, Carth_.” She had to keep him calm, in spite of this. “ _We will destroy him. You know I can. You know I will_.”

“Yes.”

Good. He was quiet now, apparently that was what he needed to know, and she was free to begin laying the foundation to close him off from others. When she was done, no one would be able to break it, no one would be able to read his mind, skim his thoughts...he'd just be a dull blank...not even a void because that would be too obvious. He'd go into this wrapped up and protected by her.

“Tell me when you're ready to get started.” He mumbled, and she was yanked back into reality. He hadn't even noticed she'd started, much less that she was finished. But time had passed, at least an hour... She was resting across his chest, her ear against his heart. And she had been that way for quite a while, cheek stuck to his shirt.

“It's done. We've been here for about an hour.” She said, sitting up and checking her chronometer. “Or more like an hour and a half. Better get back before the crew starts looking for us, and I have a busy day tomorrow.”


	53. Chapter 53

Three nervous Republic soldiers were waiting for Sarah when she arrived at the bay early the next morning, and Hazen was one of them. He looked less than pleased, and Sarah knew exactly why. He'd been hoping for Canderous, he got her. And she'd arrived in clothes, not armor...not a weapon in sight, her lightsaber hilt tucked invisibly away under the tail of her shirt. It would be difficult to look less competent if she tried. 

A tiny submersible bobbed in the waves in front of him, and she eyed it for a long moment. Very tiny. Very, very tiny. Picking this up on sonar would be difficult indeed. It would have a return much like a shark. They were certainly up to no good here, but that didn't matter. This would get her down to where she needed to be and that was all that counted. 

“Don't worry.” She headed him off before he could even get started. “I'm better than I look and I am most certainly armed. What am I doing?” 

He sighed, obviously less than convinced. “The sub is programmed to take you right to where you need to go. It will take you right to the site...after that, it's up to you. I assume you have communication abilities.” 

She pulled out the holoprojector, cradling it in her palm and extending her hand to him. It was high quality, top of the line, and it showed. “Linked to a T3 unit on my ship. Standard ship to personnel earbud as well, but I'm expecting some interference on that channel.” Yes, they looked scruffy but they had better than decent equipment.

“Right.” He answered dubiously, but grabbed the loop on the sub's hatch and pulled it open. “There you go.” 

She hopped across the open space of water, landing just behind the hatch, before he even managed to shift his weight to give her a hand across it, and glanced inside. Teensy tiny... they wanted Canderous, but she doubted if he'd even really fit in it. But she would. She settled into the seat, glancing at the controls. They were, as stated, all locked in to a single path, no deviation. She was at the mercy of that programming...

Doesn't matter. It's where you're going. 

She nodded, wrapping her fingers around the hatch lock and pulling it from Hazen's still uncertain grip, letting the hatch drop securely into its seals and locking it securely. It began to pressurize, and dropped like a rock into the murky blue green depths, falling until the engines engaged. 

“Go ahead, Hawk.” She stated firmly. The Republic soldiers had to know that her own crew would be watching over her, talking to her. “How do I look?”

“Coming in loud and clear.” Bastila's voice was supremely calm and unconcerned. “We have a good fix on your position and your channel.” 

Things were quiet, things were good for about ten minutes, the gentle thrum of the sub's silenced propellers vibrating through its frame. Suddenly, her perspective changed, altered...she felt every muscle lock into readiness, she was being attacked by something out there, something she couldn't see, but could definitely sense. 

“No!” She hissed, throwing every single ounce of her weight, her will, her gift, behind that single thought. “You go away! Stop!” 

There was a flurry of bubbles and something huge and orange passed mere centimeters over the top of the sub, shaking it violently in its wake. Sarah had a brief understanding of teeth, many, great teeth and a buffet of outrage and anger hit her. 

“No!” She wasn't about to back down to what definitely seemed like a vastly huge, semi sentient, firaxian shark. She was not going to end this way after everything she'd been through already. Eaten by fish was not something she was going to let happen. Was this what the trouble was down here? Certainly looked like it could be...

“What the hell was that?” Bastila's cool was completely blown, her voice startled and high. “And is it coming back for more?” 

Sarah peered through the front view-port, unfurling her perceptions. Now that she had felt it, sensed it, it should be easy to track. “It's moving away.” For now. But for now seemed to be long enough, she could see the dull gleam of lights appear out of the gloom. 

“What...what was that? It's aware, I mean...” 

“Really, really big shark. I see the base coming up. Oh.” Even from the outside, through the murk, the damage was obvious. It looked like a bomb had gone off in the center of the complex she was passing over, view-ports shattered, a tumble of wreckage strewn across the pale sand. And sharks. Everywhere. “Looks like there's a lot of damage here. Definitely some breaches and flooding of the structure.” 

“Be careful, Sarah. I don't like how this feels.” Bastila breathed. “What I sensed through you was a shark? You're certain?” 

“Yes.” It had withdrawn to a good distance away, but Sarah was certain. “Only a shark about the same size as the Ebon Hawk. It's even orange.” Sarah could feel Bastila's trepidation, her concern, vibrating through the bond. 

“Not funny.” The younger woman mumbled. “If you're not exaggerating, is it possible that it has caused the damage you see? Has it attacked the base?” 

Ordinarily, Sarah would have dismissed that idea out of hand...surely the base had been designed to take a certain level of abuse. But then, there was abuse, and then there was that. “It's a possibility.” But under it all, she felt...

“No. Sarah. No. No. No.” Bastila's voice had dropped, deepened, grown commanding and stern. “I'm not there to pick you up if you drop. You're on your own right now. Don't chase that.” 

Interesting. What was that, exactly? It was a dull throb that incited panic, invited insanity. No, Bastila was correct, that was nowhere she wanted or needed to go, and she shut it down, folding her senses back in around herself. It was not the fragment, therefore it was not vital that she understood it. And she was out here alone, if she crashed again, there was no one to deal with it. There was too much riding on this to indulge her curiosity, her desire to comprehend questions like that one. “Coming into their bay now.” She sighed. Hopefully it was intact enough for her to find an environmental suit, they had to have those here. Without one, all she could do was sit over the top of the fragment and stare at it through the view screen. And that wasn't a safe option either, she could feel the fragment. But she could also feel the malign presence of that very large shark, very close to the fragment. Had the fragment driven it to this? There had been a darkness in each of the sites, each had been in a ruin of a lost culture. 

She stared at the sensor readings, according to the sub, there was an atmosphere out there. She could feel the sub bobbing on waves...there must be something other than water out there. She sighed, digging a rebreather and mask from the emergency gear in the bin next to her and fitting it tightly over her face before she toggled the sub's seals. It popped open to silence, no gush of water, and she pushed it all of the way open and stood up. Just an empty, quiet bay. Too quiet. Too empty. 

“I'm in the bay. There's nothing here.” She stated, hopping to the deck and warily gripping the lightsaber hilt. The very air babbled with silence, a baited, waiting vacuum. 

“Understood. Sarah...” 

“I love you too, Bastila. And things will be just fine.” She strode to the door out, warily pushing the button to open it, more than half expecting a gush of water to knock her down. Nothing, just an empty hallway. But she could hear dripping, and the floor was wet. She glanced at the rebreather's readout, it happily claimed that the air was breathable, some smoke contamination, a little thin, but she chose not to trust it completely. Something just felt desperately wrong here, the bay was intact. This hallway as well. The damage was not completely catastrophic... She came out of the hallway into a wider portion, roughly five paces away from three Selkath, their dark mottled skins an effective camouflage in the uncertain light. She stopped, tilting her head...processing. The Selkath were not generally hostile sorts, they prided themselves on their unyielding and hardheaded love of order, laws and neutrality. But everything in her screamed that these three were an issue, and the only concrete thought her mind latched onto as she unthinkingly ignited the lightsaber was that the Selkath produced a natural neurotoxic coating on their usually retracted claws. The thought of being attacked by one in that manner should seem hilarious, but it didn't down here in the dripping quiet. 

“Hey.” It was just her imagination, just the constant hammering of the massive shark outside against her mental defenses... they weren't really going to...

Yes, they were, with claws out and dripping. She ducked under the first swipe, clearing her way with the lightsaber and immediately dropping into her combat form. She'd figure out the how and the why later, right now she had to make certain that there was going to be a later. 

We tend to flee after. Well, it certainly looked like Manaan was just going to be the same. She'd just killed three of one of the least violent races she knew of...because they'd attacked her. Who'd believe it? 

“Um, Bastila?”

“Yeah?”

“Looks like we're going to be leaving Manaan in a hurry.”

“Understood.” 

She rested her palms against one of the corpses, closing her eyes and centering herself. It had been insane, driven insane by... The shark outside. That ceaseless babble had torn apart its sanity, its intelligence, everything, reducing it just an animal. A rather large animal with poison coated claws. How many could there be? Why were they even here...if this was a hush hush Republic base to poach kolto, why would Selkath even be involved? So many questions, so few answers. 

It turned out that there were lots of Selkath, all of them insane, and Sarah felt her own well-being begin to fray. No, not fray, shift. Change. This was not too much for what she had been once to handle, but was too much for what she had become. She needed herself back, needed what she had lost. She'd survived the War. Survived Malachor V. She was up to this challenge, she just had to let herself be...herself. No nest of crazy fish was her better, her equal. She was better than that. More than that. All she needed to keep in mind was that they stood between her and what she'd come here for. “What's going on, Sarah?” Bastila had the tone that Sarah had become all too familiar with, the knife edged concern and more than a little disapproval. Except... Bastila wasn't here right now. She couldn't pull a dirty trick and slam Sarah to sleep. And even if she could, she'd just end up killing Sarah by poisonous killer fishy people proxy. It felt like she'd slipped a leash she hadn't even really grasped that she had wrapped around her throat. Free...free...it seemed like the more Selkath she plowed through, the better her dance became, the freer she felt. This was right. This was what she was meant to be. And just beyond it all, the call of the fragment, more compelling than even the mental cacophony from the great shark outside. She just had to get to it. And that meant getting through crazy Selkath...

 

A large view-port loomed in the shadowed darkness, and she leaned against it...staring, feeling. The complex was fairly well lit, and there, just now becoming visible... She snorted in unsurprised mirth. A kolto harvester perched on the edge of the rift, churning the kolto rich water from the depths. Illegal harvesting on a neutral world, it would be a disaster if the Manaan government discovered this. 

Hypocrites. Smug, stupid little hypocrites. 

And above the harvester, above the rift, she felt the source of the enraged presence that permeated everything around her. “Yes. I know you're there. You know I'm here. We've met.” 

“Everything okay, Sarah? Can I get a sitrep? Something? Anything?” Bastila demanded in her ear, and Sarah smiled. Squeaky clean little jedi, guardian of the Republic, was not going to like this one.

“Clandestine Republic kolto processing operation on a neutral world. Currently under attack by immensely large, force aware, semi sentient, pissed off indigenous life form. And it's not too particular about what it's driving crazy.” The Selkath here had not been spared, and by the grating babble just on the edge of her perceptions, a human would not be immune to it either. 

“You're kidding.” But by the exasperation in Bastila's voice, she wasn't expecting Sarah to retract those words. “Manaan is the only source of kolto! If something happens to it, to our ability to export it... the Sith will...” She sputtered into silence. “Can you do anything?”

“I'll do my best.” The Sith couldn't... the Sith weren't... Reality hazed around her and she slid down the wall, sitting on the floor. The Sith weren't what? It had been so long since she'd been alone, it was refreshing to just take a deep breath without someone watching, studying, weighing her. The Sith were not...

The Sith are not the Sith. 

Why, why were things like this? Nonsense. Half formed concepts. Truths which were falsehoods. Empty. Adrift. Lost. If it wasn't for Carth, this would be intolerable. 

That's why he has been given to you. And you have been given to him.

And she just had to get her ass in gear, get the the fragment, and get him off of here. She'd just massacred her way through several Selkath, they would think nothing of putting the entire crew in jail for that. And the Republic could do nothing, the Order could do nothing. 

Stop the harvester. Destroy it. 

Straightforward. She liked that. Keep heading for the fragment, the shark, the kolto harvester, and cut down everything that got in her way. 

A body, the first she'd seen since arriving...and she froze in her tracks, using the rosy shine of the lightsaber as a light source to illuminate it more closely. It couldn't be. It really couldn't be. Her eyes, her mind, had to be playing tricks on her. “Oh.” She breathed in disbelief. “Oh.” 

“Sarah? Sarah, what's wrong? You feel...bad.” 

“Carth? I need to talk to Carth.” She wanted out of here. Her head felt like it was going to explode...like she was going to explode. It was too much to lay on him, but she couldn't handle this alone. Not without...whatever that was that stirred in her soul. 

“Babe?” His voice, concerned...a lifeline. A much needed infusion of sanity. She slid down the wall across from the body, staring at it in transfixed fascination. She shouldn't tell him, it was too much...

“They've been eating them.” 

“What? Who's been eating what? Sarah, do I need to come get you?” 

Yes. No... he'd have to run the shark gauntlet to get here. She had managed to turn the shark away from herself, but she couldn't guarantee that she could turn it away from another sub. “The Selkath here, they've gone mad. They've been eating Republic soldiers.” 

Silence. Utter, dead, complete silence. If it weren't for the occasional pops on the frequency, she would have sworn she'd lost the signal. “She can't be left there, Carth. She can't...” Bastila's voice, bashful, tiny, so far away. “We have to go get her.” 

“No. You can't. That shark isn't gone...” 

“Fuck.” Carth snapped, “Sarah...” 

“I just needed to hear your voice.” To know he was there waiting for her on the other side of this. She stood up, turning her back on the mangled corpse, took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. You're a Jedi, even if you don't remember it. You went to War, even if you don't remember it. You survived Malachor V, even if you don't remember it. This is unpleasant, regrettable, but you are equal to it. 

“I'm here.” His voice was both supportive and exasperated. Yes, he was there...which was not here. 

“I got this.” She said, pushing onwards...towards the fragment. 

More devastation, blood splashed walls, sodden corpses, but Sarah let the siren's call of the fragment pull her forward, closing her mind to the carnage. The way finally ended at a pressure hatch, environmental suit lockers right beside it, and Sarah rifled the lockers until she found one that would fit her. She settled into it, checked the seals, and stepped into the airlock. Outside...water... shark...and the fragment. Although the lightsaber would function underwater, the suit was so horribly bulky that she would have no chance of wielding it. She'd just have to depend on the suit's defenses and her own abilities to confront the sharks without relying on the weapon. 

Water filled the chamber and Sarah stepped out onto the sea floor. The large helmet blocked all of her peripheral vision, she'd just have to sense them coming. The suit had a sonic emitter which should hold them at bay, but it wasn't constantly active. The thought of something that big sneaking up behind her was terrible... 

“I'm out of the complex. Headed for the fragment.” 

Carth made a pained noise and she grimaced at the sound. Nothing was worse than waiting, listening, hoping, but being unable to do anything at all about what was going on. Bastila was silent for a long moment before she replied with a sharp, “Understood.” 

Can't go for the fragment first. She'll be on me in an instant. Have to do what I promised her I would do. Stop the harvester. Destroy it. 

How? The thing was immense, a hulking mass in the turbid gloom. Even if she resorted to the lightsaber, it would take forever to dismantle it. She moved to the control bank, scrutinizing it carefully. There had to be that, right there. A whole list of what not to do, or elses, a guide list of what exactly to do when one had destruction on their mind. 

'Operator warning: Hydrolium fuel unstable at 4 million sangens. Explosive rupture will occur.' Well, that sounded quite promising. There would be safety measures to prevent that, of course, but now Sarah knew what she had to achieve to get the job done.

She could feel the vast shark gliding closer, rising up from the Rift to move noiselessly up behind her. “Yes, yes, I feel you back there. Just wait a minute.” She muttered, studying the readouts and the fuel canister controls. “You eat me and I can't get this done for you.” 

“Sarah?” She'd rarely heard Carth sound quite that concerned before. “Are you okay? Really?” 

“Just discussing life and such with a very large shark. We're getting along brilliantly at the moment, however...” If she shifted enough fuel back and forth between the canisters, the agitation in the self oxidizing fuel would cause the reaction she was looking for. “And...boooooom!”

“WHAT?!?!?!” Carth's outraged yell was drowned out by the dull vibrating thud of the fuel cells exploding in a cascade reaction through the harvester. Sand and chunks of seagrass flowed around Sarah, eddying and swirling. 

“Boom.” She repeated with a chuckle, waiting for the debris to settle. Yes, that had most certainly done the job. It would take years to build another one, and she intended to be long gone well before that was even an option. Now, all she had to do was head for the fragment. It was calling, whispering, beckoning, now louder than everything else. The shark was no longer a problem, Sarah could feel it, but it was just background noise...much like the pops and whines from the collapsing kolto harvester superstructure. 

She made her bounding, hopping way to the fragment...they'd completely uncovered it at some time during the harvester's construction, and Sarah's stomach fell. If they'd damaged it, if they'd accessed it, the idea made her want to scream. It was too damned precious for this!

The fragment sat in solitary glory, tightly closed, encircled by lights. She approached it warily, had they come this far just to find that this link in the puzzle was gone? This kolto harvester and the construction for it were fairly new, started after Revan's visit. None of this would have been here when Revan and Malak had come, it would have just been ocean floor for miles. 

Come on, come on. 

She lumbered up to it, grinning when it unlocked and furled open, the beauty of the display bright and wonderful in the water. Had it opened to the construction crew? 

No. It waited for you. 

Why? Was it from the marks that Revan was supposed to have left on her soul? It seemed unlikely, the more time had passed, the less she felt those. There were no more visions, she'd found the fragments by simply following the force, exactly as Revan must have. Why had the Enclave Council not realized that was all it would take? Why had they insisted that she be the one to go with Bastila? And why Bastila? It made no damned sense...

“Sarah?” Speaking of Bastila... 

“I have the data. I want a pickup here...on the surface.” The last thing that Sarah wanted to do was go to Ahto City and face Selkath after this. Let the Enclave deal with the fallout, she wasn't going to be the one to explain what had happened. She'd done her job here and that was all that counted. She just had to retrace her steps through that abattoir, get back in the sub, change its programmed route back and go home to the Hawk. 

It was a plan. It was a good plan. But she could sense it wasn't going to work the moment she stepped through the pressure door back into the complex. There had been nothing alive when she'd passed through, but now she sensed life. She sensed the Force, flowing, moving, singing and warning. Whoever it was, they weren't good enough to hide from her... She dismounted the environmental suit in a hurry, palming the lightsaber hilt. “Bastila?”

“What?” 

“I have company. Sith, I'd say.” Well, sort of. Something in her gut found that idea a little amusing, but it was definitely more than one force user... More than one meant she needed to have the confrontation in a close area, she had to bunch them up and stack them... if they could surround her, they had the upper hand. Why, why hadn't she built another lightsaber? She was a damned idiot, always assuming that Bastila would be there...

“Understood. Sarah, you can take them. You are equal to, better than anything that would be here on Manaan. Even if it's something that Malak sent.”

The funny thing was, Sarah believed her. That wasn't just a vain attempt to comfort her, Bastila completely and totally meant it. Never before had Sarah truly grasped just what the younger woman thought of her until that moment. What had she been? 

She wasn't the trapped one...they were the ones trapped in here with her. She was the one doing the hunting. Maybe she could rectify that missing lightsaber problem with a trophy taken from one of them. It wouldn't be as fine as one she'd make for herself, but it was better than an empty hand. 

There were three of them, and two were merely cannon fodder. The tall man in the front was not...he seemed oddly familiar. She'd seen him. She'd seen him recently, since she'd left the hospital. He'd been on the Endar Spire, one of the boarding crew that had brought the ship down. Carth's ship...

“Nice goatee.” She greeted pleasantly, and he spun into a fairly competent guard position. “Adds to the badass look.” The badass look he was working entirely too hard on...goatee, black gear, red lightsaber. He was like a bald Sith poster boy. 

He wishes. He's just a fake. And he doesn't even know he's just a fake. 

“At last, my search is over! I was beginning to fear that someone else had killed you and deprived me of the pleasure.” He didn't even have the correct accent... he was a wannabe. A soliloquy spouting wannabe. “You may have defeated the pathetic bounty hunter my Master sent after you, but you are no match for me! I have studied at the foot of the Dark Lord himself!”

No, no you haven't. You only think you have. But that did answer one lurking question... Malak knew. He'd known from pretty much the very beginning if he'd sent the assassin on Tatooine against them. That clenched it, she and Carth were not taking anybody to Korriban with them. 

“You're Malak's apprentice?” Sarah snorted at the very thought. She'd expected better...more. This was almost laughable. She felt no real threat from any of these men, Bastila had been so right. “Can't say I'm impressed.”

“Your words mean nothing to me...unless you wish to beg for your life.” That was not an idea that Sarah was going to dignify with an answer, hopefully a raised brow and a lifted lip would be answer enough... “No? Then I shall try to make this both quick and painful.” He finished, igniting his lightsaber. Sarah followed suit, turning on his backup first. They wouldn't know what had hit them, and she needed them gone in a hurry. Even though they didn't feel impressive, she'd like two fewer lightsabers going on in this fight. Even an idiot could manage a killing blow in this situation...

She cut around, pinning the two young Sith between her and their master, pushing them off balance and using them as shields. She just had to keep them moving, keep them turning... the first was open and vulnerable before she had him where she wanted him but she took the lunge anyway, catching his lightsaber out of the air as he fell. One down, two to go, and now she had a lightsaber in both hands. The new one was a tad too long, but she could work with it. You are outclassed, buddy. 

And he knew it. She could see doubt, an unpleasant surprise, rise in his dark eyes. It was thrilling to watch it come, thrilling to carry through out of the lunge and scissor the other man in half with one graceful sweep. 

“Insert nice speech here.” She growled, dropping her center of balance and sucking her navel in, tightening muscles under her skin. It was like breathing, only more intrinsic to her soul instead of simply her body. This was what she was, what she had been forged to be. She'd worked at it for years, combining that drive with an undeniable gift. And he wasn't going to even last long enough to give her the chance to fully embrace it, he zigged, she zagged hard, and it was over. 

“Bastila. I am clear. Heading for sub and pickup right now.” She scooped up his lightsaber from the floor, and dropped the other. Leave them here and let the authorities pin this carnage on them... Win, win. 

She bolted down the hallways, gathering speed with every stride. Now that it was over, she just wanted out of here. She wanted to go home. “We're on our way, Sarah. Rendezvous when your signal is on the surface.” 

Good. Good. She made it to the bay and hopped across to the sub, pulling its hatch close and looking at its programming. It had never been programmed for a return trip at all, only to bring her here. She could manually pilot it from here on out, straight for the surface. The sharks had dispersed when she cleared the bay, her trip to the surface was completely unmolested. It was just a moment to trigger the sub's original programming, to return it to the bay, and she popped the hatch, standing on the seat. She could see the Hawk coming in fast and low, gleaming in the midday light. It was only noon. Just half a day gone... 

Somehow Carth managed to position over the tiny sub and cut down on the engine backwash to where Sarah didn't even have to struggle to catch the line that Canderous tossed at her from the belly hatch. A few moments later and she was back on board, the Mandalorian clapping her on the back. 

“We're good, let's get the hell out of here.” She said, grinning at Canderous and heading into the ship. Four down, one to go...


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Torture.

Carth had always loved flying. It was when he felt free, utterly competent, unthinking. His lips twisted in a wry smile as he glanced over to the copilot's seat...sadly, he'd never flown Morgana anywhere. She'd never even gotten the opportunity to leave Telos. He'd never gotten to show her, to share with her, just what his gift truly was. She'd known him as a man. A husband. A father. But never really as himself, the entire package.

The blanket wrapped bundle in the copilot's seat snorted in her sleep, shifting slightly. She wasn't sleeping well, and he sighed. She wasn't talking, but it was obvious that the Hrakert Rift station had rattled her deeply, to the point where she'd refused to sleep in their cabin. "It's okay, babe." He stated comfortingly.

"No, it's not." She growled, in that voice, that pissy angry voice she used in her sleep and his grip tightened on the control yoke. She was just asleep, only dreaming. She often made quite coherent answers to things he said to her while she slept, but she was not conscious. Of course, she was a Jedi. They were supposed to be...

A deep, echoing thunk rattled through the ship and sirens screamed in answer. A jolt yanked at the control yoke, but he'd already focused every ounce of his attention on the panel in front of him. He could feel Sarah come immediately awake, her stare planted on his face, but he didn't have the answers for her, yet.

"We're falling out of hyperspace." He growled. "We've been...interdicted." Again.

"Fuck me." She hissed, rolling out of the co-pilot's seat to land on her feet. "It's Karath. He must have picked us up at Manaan."

"Uh huh." He answered, the majority of his attention still locked on his ship. He'd experienced multiple interdictions before, but those had all been in cruisers, usually a Hammerhead, and those were immense compared to the Ebon Hawk...twenty four times larger. He'd never tried to fight loose with these odds... And he'd failed miserably the last time he'd tried it with a Hammerhead, the Endar Spire, over Taris... Sarah had damn near died then.

"Don't even try. We'll need to be intact if we're to have any chance of getting out of here. Put up enough of a fuss to make it look good, but don't damage the ship doing it..." She pushed the ship's internal intercom button. "All crew to main hold. You manage the interdiction."

"Aye, aye." No one else could, anyway. And right now, under these circumstances, she was in charge. Combat hardened Jedi tended to be generals, and she was certainly acting the part.

"What's going on?" Bastila stood in the hatchway, "Sarah?"

"We're being interdicted. It's the Leviathan, again. We need to prepare for boarding. We have to clear the nav computer. We need to hide the datapads. We need to lock down Tee Three. Assume that they're going to pulse the ship. If you have anything from the Enclave, it needs to vanish. Go, while I brief Mission." There was that tone that made panic disappear, calm, steely, in perfect control. What she must have been at her pinnacle, during the War...

"Mission?"

"Yes, Mission. Now is the time she pulls her weight. I told her that the time would come, and it has. This is why she's here." Sarah's voice was pulling away, but she was still audible. The ship was small enough that one could yell from aft to cockpit and still be heard, and the main hold was not far from him.

"Canderous! We're going to be boarded!" She dropped into Mandalorian without even the slightest of pauses, her voice rising and falling through the syllables, giving what had to be a sharp spate of orders. "Mission. We don't have much time. It's up to you to get us free when you can. I know you can do it. I know you will. Okay. Everybody knows what they're doing... and not doing. Just don't get yourselves killed."

It sounded like she had things under control back there, his job was to fly. Even though he knew it was highly unlikely that he could break the freighter free, he was damn well going to try anyway. He just couldn't let Karath... let Karath have...Sarah. His stomach knotted in on itself like a nest of snakes. No.

Her hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. "You promised." He hissed, clenching her fingers. "Do you remember? If you fall, you come for me."

"We've both made promises, Carth. And the time has come to start upholding them. They are the only things that are going to get us through this...you, and me. We're there now, and I'm there for you. Don't forget that. I know you hate Karath, and I did make you a commitment. I will help you avenge what he's done, and..." She took a deep breath, burying her face in the back of his hair. "...What he's going to do."

"Sarah, I..." What? Was terrified? She had to feel that he was. This was worse than losing the Endar Spire, then he hadn't been close to any of them. He'd been responsible, but every crew member there had been doing their duty. They'd been professionals, they'd been adults. He could hear Mission yelling in the main bay, and she most certainly wasn't professional or adult. Bastila had been a vaguely annoying snot he was supposed to defer to, but she'd become so much more now that he understood what she'd been shouldering. Canderous was an older Mandalorian, Carth had no idea what would happen there... Karath and Malak had gone to war in the beginning against them. How much bad blood remained? Zaalbar was a wookiee, Mission a twi'lek. The chances that they'd avoid slavery...slim to none. And Sarah, so beautiful, so gifted...so fragile. And so very important to him.

"Hold the course, Carth. I promise you, we will kill Karath. And he's about to let us on his ship to do it. But first..."

"It's going to get ugly." Why couldn't he doubt it when she told him things? But again, her words filled him with a steady assurance.

"Yes." Her voice was regretful, and she raked her fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."

"You make it sound like you're going to be spared." He couldn't face that. He couldn't know. He couldn't watch. The idea made him sick, Karath was going to hurt her. Hurt him. Again. And again, Carth had let himself have something to lose. And again, Saul Karath held that something in the palm of his hand.

"None of us will be spared. But we've run out of time." A hollow scrape and thump of locking hatches proved her correct and she turned away from him...facing the aft...facing the hatch behind him. "See you later." He flinched at the sound of not one, but two, lightsabers igniting in the tight space and the cockpit was bathed in a lurid crimson light. "Because I am going to go let Karath know I'm here."

Carth came to. He was cold, stiff and quite naked, lying on unforgiving metal decking. The air around him hummed like a live wire, and he cautiously opened an eye. "Shit." He mumbled, covering his face with his hand. He was not in a brig...he was in a torture cage. Fear washed over him, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he could do. Nothing to pull his mind off of this. Nothing to deny the obvious, he was in deeper trouble than he'd ever been before. He tasted bile, smelled his sudden rise of fear sweat in spite of the temperature. He wanted out. Now. He wanted to cry, to rage, to scream. "Sarah?" His voice trembled on the syllables, came out as a squeak instead of a call. The room was almost dark, lit by pools of uncertain light, unwilling to dispel the shadows.

"She doesn't hear you." He wasn't expecting an answer, only an empty echo of his own words, but there was a dull reply. Bastila. "She's asleep."

Asleep? She was sleeping while he was curled up naked on a deck floor? He stood up, throwing modesty to the wind. He was naked. Not his fault, and he had so much more to worry about. Bastila was in the cage next to his, equally naked, and he averted his eyes quickly. There were only two cages, and he scanned the room. Sarah... his heart clenched.

She hung suspended from the wall, her hands chained over her head. She was unsurprisingly nude, her face obscured in the fall of her ebon hair. The way she'd been arranged was subtly disturbing, like she was offering herself, arching her back, but her hair had grown long enough to cover her breasts. And she was...snoring?

"They've drugged her." Bastila stated, her voice dead. "Carth, I am so sorry. I failed you. I failed her. I failed everybody. We got so close."

"Shhhhh..." He hissed. They were being monitored, that went without saying. If she said much more, she'd give it all away. "Where are the others?" No Canderous. No Mission. No Zaalbar.

"I don't know. They weren't very interested in them. Just you. Me. And Sarah. Didn't help that she went through a good portion of the crew compliment before they stunned her hard enough for her to go down."

"Good for her." He'd been pinned down in the cockpit and stunned. No heroics on his part, but he also wasn't capable of the reality defying movements that Sarah called upon when she fell into her dance. "Too bad she didn't get more of them." He bit down on any other words as the door at the end of the chamber opened.

Karath. Carth was not one to hate easily, in fact, he truly hated only one soul in all existence...and that wasn't Revan. That wasn't Malak. It was that man striding towards him, the one who had once meant so much in his life...until he'd destroyed it. So many years of anguish and now, now words failed Carth. All he could do was stare in stunned, horrified silence... even though his life, Bastila's, Sarah's, hung in the balance.

"Carth. It has been far too long since we last spoke. I see the recent months have not been kind in your case. I barely recognized you." It was a terribly lame attempt, Carth knew what he looked like. Except for the fading bruises, he looked better than he had in years...and Karath was the almost unrecognizable one. Gone was the tall, handsome blond man that Carth remembered so well, replaced by this... a gray man, gray skinned, gray haired, dull eyed. The life was gone. The man's soul was dead. He was broken. "But I must admit I'm impressed. You are the last one I would have thought would play the game, and play it so very well. But you have failed again. You will not take my place."

What was he talking about? It made utterly no sense. Was that the point of it? To confuse and unbalance Carth, hoping to shake some juicy tidbit out of him? What place did he think Carth was after?

"I'm very disappointed in you, Karath." Sarah's words fell like artillery fire, deep, resonant, earth shaking... the pissy voice she unleashed in her sleep in bits and pieces came together in a coherent, focused sentence. And it was startlingly unnerving, Carth was happy it wasn't aimed at him. "You have failed me." She raised her head, staring at Karath through the splits in the strands of her hair, and her gaze smouldered with rage.

Karath stepped back, going flushy pale. The last time Carth had seen that expression was on the Arkanian Legacy, when Karath had faced down Mandalore himself. But Sarah? She was impressive, but... not that impressive. And what the hell was she talking about? She'd never mentioned even knowing Karath before, much less being in a position to be disappointed in, to feel let down, by him. "You can't be awake." Karath snarled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've had enough to knock a terentatek down."

She laughed, a gravelly, slurred chuckle. "I am your worst nightmare, Saul Karath. You know that. I know that. And here...I...am. Get your rocks off while you still can, but it's all fleeting. And yes, Karath, consider yourself replaced. By him, my chosen Admiral-Consort. He's always been better than you. He saved your skin...more than once, you fuck up. You disobeyed me."

Carth clenched his fists...what was she doing? She was egging Karath on, inciting him, threatening him... she was going to get herself hurt. But she was out of her mind, thick with drugs. This wasn't her. Karath reached out, grabbing a hold of the mass of hair at her forehead, yanking her head around to stare into her face. "The only reason I won't kill you is that he'll do it for me. And he'll do a better job of it, bitch. He'll break you, and I'll get to watch. He'll break all of you. But you...you just need to go back to fucking sleep."

"You can try, Karath."

"I know what you're doing, Idarn. You don't play me for a fool."

"No." Sarah's voice was strangely level...she was fighting to come back. "Malak plays you for a fool. Give me more drugs, give me different drugs. You know I'll work my way around them eventually."

Karath paused, glancing over his shoulder at Carth...and Bastila. "He won't. Your Admiral-Consort, eh? Your replacement for me? I don't think so, Idarn. Watch...him...burn."

Agony. Sheer unadulterated agony, beyond any pain that Carth had ever experienced ripped through his body and he fell like every bone had been yanked out of him. It hurt too much to scream, to cry, to breathe. He was dying, there was no other way to put it. Every single fiber of his being exploded, ravaged. But Sarah was doing all of his screaming for him, he could feel her outrage like a tidal wave. And then, it died...leaving him panting on the decking, curled up in a fetal ball of misery. He tasted blood, but the idea of moving was too much to bear.

"So. You've gone and done something very stupid, I see. Fascinating, and I'm certain Darth Malak will find it amusing. But he is in another sector at the moment, so I will begin the questioning. So tell me...What planet were you trained on?" Karath drawled,

"Dantooine." In spite of her bravado, Sarah's voice thickened, slurred, and the moment Karath let go of her hair, her head lolled forward again.

"No!" Bastila cried, "Don't tell him any more! You can't!" Carth hugged tighter to his knees when her protest was cut off by a harsh scream and then, silence. No. No. He couldn't be here. This wasn't happening. It was all just a nightmare that he would wake up from in a moment, wrapped in knotted sheets and drenched in sweat. Sarah.

"An excellent beginning." Karath leaned in closer to Sarah, his hand resting on her bare shoulder, almost too...intimately...for Carth's taste. But then, none of this was to Carth's taste. But somehow, that touch was terribly disturbing, it made every protective cell in his body scream in denial. She was his, his to love, and his to care for. "Of course, you knew that Malak already knew that, so you gave up nothing. I know that, Idarn. But I see you're willing to talk...at least about that." Carth tried to tear his eyes away, but he was sickeningly fascinated by the way Karath stroked Sarah's hair back. "I am..." He chuckled, almost fondly, cradling her cheek in his palm. "Amazed to see you. It's been a long time. But I guess I shouldn't really be so surprised, should I?"

"No. You shouldn't be. You should have known better, Karath. I overestimated you and you've underestimated me." Her voice was still gravelly thick and she hung in her chains without a fight. Carth could feel her now, that presence he'd become accustomed to in the back of his head, and she felt so very tired. Mired down and struggling, fueled by anger, outrage, a thread of fear.

"Next question. If you fail to answer it..." Karath glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze falling on Carth. "Well, I know torturing you won't really work. Your will is too strong. But you learned nothing during your last attempt at male companionship, I see. Malak is very interested in you and Bastila...but has no use for Carth. However, I do. And I think you know exactly what I mean, Idarn. As to the Enclave on Dantooine, it has been destroyed by our fleet. It's an empty graveyard now, a smoking ruin marking the graves of your charred masters."

Damn you. Damn you. Damn you. Telos. Taris. And now, the Enclave. The man destroyed everything he touched...and he was holding Sarah's face in his hand. He had Carth and Bastila caged. It was over.

No. It wasn't over. He just had to keep telling himself that. Sarah wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. Bastila wasn't. He just had to hold himself together in spite of what he knew was coming. Sarah had been perfectly willing to give away information she knew Malak had always had... even Carth knew that Malak had been trained at Dantooine. Revan had been. Sarah had been. Bastila had been. It was not news to anybody. He doubted if she'd be willing to give up real information quite as easily, and his fingernails bit into his knees.

"How were the Jedi planning on using you to stop Lord Malak and our Sith Armada?"

She couldn't answer that. She wouldn't. He knew it, and he bit down on what sounded suspiciously like a whimper. He had to...

I am here. I am sorry, Carth. I love you.

"There is no hole deep enough for you to get away from me in, Karath. Dig your own grave, but I will not answer you." Her voice changed, still slurry, slow, but it fell with the sharp enunciation of a high ranking Imperial. Carth had heard the accent too many times to not recognize it immediately, even Karath didn't have it. But Sarah did. "And when this is over, I will curse your soul and spit on your corpse."

Stunning, overwhelming pain ripped through Carth again. Even thought his eyes were screwed shut, he was dazzled by a brilliant yellow white light. He could smell burning flesh...his flesh... He vaguely heard himself make a noise, an animal noise of pure misery. A sound no human should ever make, but he was making it. The gnawing, jolting pain settled deep in his belly, every muscle clenched in a bitter spasm. He bit down, almost relieved when he felt pain that he could comprehend, could grasp...his tongue..his teeth. "Uggggggg!" He howled, feeling the contents of his stomach rise, his scrotum contract. He was going to vomit. Scream. Piss himself. All he wanted to do was simply pass out, but that was denied to him. All that existed was pain. He wanted to die, to just get it all over with.

"I. Am. Going. To. Fucking. Kill. You. Karath!" Sarah snarled, and the pain suddenly abated. Through the thunder of his heart, the hiss of his wavering breaths, through the shock and shame... Carth heard a garbled, strangling noise. Was he still moaning? Was that him making that noise? He lifted his head, shaking. He had vomited. He had pissed himself. He was drooling blood, and quite a bit of it. But he was not the one making that noise. He focused on Karath, who was making that noise...his hands clenched on his own throat, his boot-heels suspended centimeters over the decking. Sarah was arced against the chains, her head up and her eyes wide open, a look of total hatred and intensity on her features. The light was uncertain, but Carth could swear that her eyes were not gray. Not muddy. They seemed to be the clear, feral yellow of a predator. It should bother him but all he felt was a deep, rejoicing satisfaction. Pay for it, Karath. Pay for it all. Die. And then, pay some more. He'd heard stories that Jedi, that Sith, could, as Sarah had threatened, curse someone's very soul. And if Sarah could accomplish that, well then, Saul deserved it.

A shot rang off of the wall, just centimeters from Sarah's head, and Karath dropped like a bag of wet laundry to the decking. Carth was gratified to see that he was moaning, choking, gasping and that he had a spreading dark spot at his crotch. Sarah had given as badly as he'd gotten.

"You better run, Karath. While you've got the chance. Go whine to your master. He's coming... and you stink like piss." If Sarah was at all perturbed by the shot, she did a magnificent job of hiding it...turning her head to unleash that stare at the guard who had fired it from the doorway. "You're not moving fast enough, Saul..."

Karath picked himself off of the decking, staring at her for a long moment. "You win this one, Idarn. But as you sense, he's coming. And look at you. Naked. Chained..." His eyes lingered on her breasts. "With your history with him, I'm sure he'll find this tableau quite appealing. And ironic."

"Keep running the tally up, Karath. I never forget an insult. And I mean what I said, I will curse your soul. I can do it. You know I can. And now, you know I will. Malak can't protect you from me. Run. Run!"

Karath did just that, fleeing the room. And all Carth wanted to do was lie exactly where he'd fallen, listening to his own breaths. He was alive. The pain would fade...the pain would fade...Sarah was still alive. Bastila was still alive.

"Bastila...there's something wrong. What is it?" Sarah sounded only mildly curious, conversational, as if she was asking about the weather. Carth could name a thousand things wrong with this...

"Oh, Sarah." Bastila sighed, as if she held the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. "I need you to listen to me right now. Please."

"I'm listening." She still had that precise edge to her words, she'd lost her Outer Rim accent. Somehow, that bothered him. He just needed a moment for his body to stop rebelling to think about it. But that wasn't going to happen now, he barely made it back up on his knees before he vomited again. He felt Sarah's gaze land on him, she was angry, concerned, outraged, and plotting... a whole welter of her emotions flowed over him.

"I love you, Sarah. I mean that. He loves you."

"I know that. Bastila, you have to tell me. I...I have to hear it from you. Something, whatever this is...is right there. I can't..."

"It's been broken." Bastila chuckled wryly. "So close, and it fails now. But we never expected it to have to stay through this...too much. Malak is going to kill you if we can't get you out of here. He failed the last time, but he'll take this opportunity...now that he knows he has it... to fix that."

"Bastila, you're stalling. Or monologuing. And we're running out of time. Do I let it happen or do I not?"

He managed to pick his head up and focus on Bastila, fighting down everything but the shaking. He couldn't stop that no matter how hard he tried, his teeth were rattling, his fingers quivered... What the hell were the two of them talking about? Bastila looked...stalwart. For the first time ever, she looked like she had a plan and was willing to run with it, to hell with the consequences. She looked like a damn leader, a Jedi.

"Remember that we love you, Sarah. But there is no Sarah. It's all fake. All of it. Your name. Who you think you are. None of it is true. It's all a construct that the Enclave on Dantooine built in your head. It's been falling apart from the beginning. Sarah, you aren't accessing Revan's memories because Revan died next to you...you're accessing Revan's memories because you are Revan."

Silence reigned. Carth had to run her words over and over in his head to make certain he'd heard them, grasped them, understood them completely. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. It was all... too bloody damn obvious for words and he buried his face in his hands. And even he wasn't certain if that sound he was making was tears or laughter. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse, it had. And he'd... he'd... he began to hiccup. He'd proposed to... Revan. He'd held her close, kissed her, loved her, worried about her, dreamed about a life with her...and it was all just a...

"The hell it is, Carth." She spat. "You...you made me promise that if I fell, I would come for you. Well, here it is. Don't play blind stupid with me now. You feel what I feel, I've never hidden that. I let you in from the beginning. I've never lied to you."

No, if he understood this, Bastila had. The Enclave had. But Sarah...Revan?...had not. "You tried to use Darth Revan." It was a laughable, laughable idea. "Because Revan would know how to..." Revan would understand how to take the journey that Revan had already taken. This time he was certain that his noise was laughter. "How did she get hurt? Or is that a lie as well? Did you break her during an interrogation?" He knew he shouldn't ask here. He knew there were cameras, knew there were sound pickups, but they'd already started and his head hurt too much for problem solving. Or was that a tooth? Teeth? He was afraid to know, but he definitely tasted blood.

"No, that was Malak's doing. The story about how we boarded the Coruscate is mostly accurate. The strike team. Malak firing on it. The only thing off is that Revan wasn't killed. But it's all over now, she knows. You know. Malak knows. Karath knows. It's all up to Revan now."

Carth was almost afraid to look in that direction. Sarah was Revan. Darth Revan. He'd been... she couldn't be... He almost hoped he'd feel something else when he finally turned his head, hoped he'd see something dark and malevolent that he could flee from. Something that suddenly wasn't Sarah anymore... But the only change was those eyes, otherwise she still looked like Sarah. Felt like a distant, thoughtful Sarah who was giving more attention to staring at the strand of hair dangling in her eyes than the unfolding scene around her. She's still stoned. She's still beautiful. She's still mine.

"Mission's loose." She suddenly stated, her eyes focusing beyond the strand at Carth. "Not long now."


	55. Chapter 55

She was Revan. No...she was Amasri Idarn, the Revanchist, known as Revan. Revan had never been her name, it had been her title, what she'd been called when she'd cast aside her status as a Jedi Knight. She'd given up everything she had, everything that she was... No. Now was not the time for that. It would have to wait for later, if there was a later. The drugs would make it all too easy to let her brain meander, to close her eyes and let go. But she couldn't. Mission was loose and things would happen quickly. She had to keep it together. If she didn't, Malak would kill her. He'd kill Carth and Canderous. And he'd take Bastila, Mission and Zaalbar. “Carth, talk to me.” He had to keep her awake. Without the entertainment value of one soon to be dead Sith Admiral, the fog was rising behind her eyes. Now that Carth's agony was fading, that push for her to remain awake was also fading. It was not fair to ask it of him, she should be strong enough to keep herself awake, to purge herself of whatever the hell this was, but she wasn't. Eventually she would have to sleep it off...but she didn't have that luxury. Even the pain and discomfort of how she was hanging wasn't enough to keep her jarred awake.

“Ah, about what?” He sounded like hell, stumbling over the syllables, the sound muffled by his knees. “Am I missing something?” 

“No.” Bastila said, “She's fighting to stay awake. She wants something to focus on. To keep her attention. Otherwise, we'll have to carry her out of here.”

No, not that. It can't happen. I need to be up. 

“One of you tell me a story. I don't care which.” She sounded petulant, she knew it, but she was so damned tired. 

“How about I tell you a story of how we get you out of there, ad'ika?” Canderous, and his voice was something to focus on, something to do. For him to be audible on the brig comms, they must be loose. Mission had done it. “Mission has remote access to the interrogation room controls. Did you want us to try to make it to you three, or to secure the Hawk?” 

 

“You're not going to make it here. Remotely override the cages and go for the Hawk.” Worse case scenario, that would give them a chance to get out of this. “We're headed for the bridge.” Mission could do only so much with what she'd been given...they were going to need to control the bridge to get the Hawk cut loose. And she'd promised Carth Karath's blood, something she fully intended to deliver on. Karath was a dead man, guilty of so many offenses. He'd betrayed her, it had been his ship that had fired on her flagship, after she'd given him that very ship. It had been that very ship which had bombed Telos into dust, against her explicit orders. Somewhere along the way, Karath had decided that backing Malak was in his best interests, and that was a fatal mistake. She had not been spouting hyperbole, she fully intended to drag him down and destroy him...all of him, body and soul. And if that made Carth content as a side effect, all the better. Well, more content. He had a whole lot of reasons to be less than happy at the moment... and she was one of them. 

I am Revan. 

The cages vanished and Bastila surged to Carth's side, but he waved her away before she could get there. “Get her down.” He growled, “I need a moment. Just a moment, and then I need...her.” 

He still wants me. He still needs me. 

“Right.” Bastila turned, staring at Sarah for a moment. She felt resigned, yet concerned. Would Sarah...Revan...still stick with the plan? The Star Forge? Supporting the Republic? And it was a solid question, would she? I know I am Revan, but I don't remember how. I don't remember why. How did I fall? Why? That's still just as obscured as it ever was. But without that plan, what did she have? What was she then? Darth Revan? That made precious little sense, even with the anger and outrage coursing through her. It was one thing to go against those who had betrayed her, harmed her and others... 

I never gave the order to bomb Telos. I know that. I didn't kill Carth's wife, his son, his world. I wanted Telos. I needed Telos. Intact. 

“Agggggghhhhh.” She hissed, clenching her teeth when Bastila released her ankles. It seemed like such a small thing to complain about, compared to what had been heaped on Carth, and even Bastila, but every muscle screamed dissent. Her ankle throbbed discordantly, almost in time to the bitter flow of pins and needles under her skin as blood returned. But it faded, much too quickly, numbed by the pharmacy flowing through her veins. A second later and she was free, nodding sharply at Bastila. She just had to stay focused and keep going. They didn't have time to lick wounds and sleep off drugs... She stumbled into motion, heading towards Carth. They just had to hold it together. 

“Come on, big guy.” She whispered, running her fingertips down Carth's trembling shoulders. It was cruel to expect him to move, to get up, to do anything useful, but he had to. They couldn't carry him and she wouldn't leave him. She just wanted to gather him up and make it all better, but that was sheer foolishness. He stank of sweat and urine, overlaid with scorched flesh and she fought down a new surge of rage. “Let's go kill Karath.” They could work out the other issues later, time was a luxury they did not have. Malak was close. She could feel him, like a storm front closing in. 

Carth tilted his head, staring at her over the rise of his shoulder. “You're pissed.” He managed, awkwardly shifting until he could get his knees up underneath him. “That's a new look for you.” 

She was afraid to grab him anywhere to help him up. The first fine tracings of redness and blisters were rising on his pale skin and she gritted her teeth. Healing was one of those things that the masters at Dantooine had skimmed over, and her head was too fuzzy to trust with an instinctive response. And it had been made pretty clear that it was also not Bastila's strong point. “What do you mean?” She had a suspicion that she knew exactly what he was referring to, but he said it so matter-of-factly. He'd gotten his arms braced under his shoulders and slowly pushed up, wobbling for a moment before he got it all sorted out. She was almost afraid to look him in the face, the eyes, but she had to. It was the only way that she'd know if things were still salvageable. 

“Your eyes. They're yellow.” 

And his were darker than she'd ever seen them be before, nearly black under his brows. The warmth she'd come to expect in them was gone, fled. “Yeah, well, you don't look your best, either. Let's get you up. Bastila... I feel my lightsabers through there...” She waved her hand towards the door that Karath had fled through. “Go get them while I get him up and moving.” It served two purposes, it would arm her, and it would spare Carth the indignity of having Bastila around while she got him up and on his feet. “Canderous, we're going after the bridge.” 

“Understood. Almost to the Hawk. Good luck.” Canderous sounded completely at ease with the idea of the three of them on their way to take an Interdictor's bridge...the Imperial flag's bridge. Thank the Force she had him. He was a rock foundation of competence and unflappable experience, exactly as the meaning of his name suggested. There were few things she could throw at him that he hadn't been through before... 

Except maybe learning you're Revan... 

Ugh. Ugly idea. She had apparently led the effort which had defeated the Mandalorian assaults. She had apparently been the mastermind behind... Her stomach clenched at the idea. She had not ordered the bombing of Telos, but she had ordered Malachor V. 

Carth stood finally, with great caution and a wide grimace, spitting blood onto the decking. “I'm up. I'm up.” He growled, taking a couple of wobbly steps forward before he got his balance. He was about as good as he was going to be until she could get him someplace he could be cared for at. Time to put some clothes back on him, and put a blaster in his hand. They were going hunting. 

The door opened for Bastila's return. She carried lightsabers...hers and Sarah's... and clothes. “Found them.” She stated grimly, her gaze avoiding Carth. “What's the plan?” 

“Canderous, Mission, Zaalbar...they're almost to the Hawk. We have no chance of running unless we can cripple the bridge, and bonus points if Karath happens to be there. So we take the bridge. Kill Karath. Disable the fighter launch bay doors and the guns.” They simply didn't have time to destroy the ship, not with... “And run. Malak is almost here.” None of them were in any condition to face that one down... not now. Not here. She had to fight to keep upright and focused. Carth was in a sorry state. Bastila, a padawan, was their most combat capable member at the moment. It was definitely not the right time to confront Malak. 

I don't want to confront Malak at all. 

Again, not the time for that. It would all have to wait. If she was Revan, then she'd been close to Malak. Just how close? “Malak is Squint, isn't he?” She asked aloud, and Bastila froze in mid-motion, half turned to offer Carth his clothing back. 

“Malak was Squint. Once.” Bastila stated, and finished the motion. “He isn't anymore, Sarah. He will kill you. He's tried before. He'll kill Carth, or worse.” 

I've exchanged one programming for another. She's going to use Carth as a leash...a leash I braided and tied around my own neck. But...she is correct. Malak tried to kill me. He'll try again. And he will destroy Carth. 

“Uh huh.” Sarah muttered, throwing her clothes on. They were unimportant, she could fight her way out of here without them... but the lightsaber, no. She had to have it. The offhand one, the one she had not built, was replaceable. But hers, no. It was supposed to be with her for this, all of this. Until the end. 

She turned to help Carth dress, nodding sharply as she settled his jacket over his shoulders. It was time to go do this. She let him go with just the faintest touch of fingertips to his face. He had to be okay, he just had to...

He caught her hand, pressing her palm to his cheek. “We'll get through this, Sarah.” He stated firmly. “Go. Do what you do best. I have your back.” 

Good. Good. She strode for the door, the deck plan of the ship forming in her mind. The Coruscate and the Leviathan had been sister ships, produced one after the other by Sienar Systems. Once that had been a nod to the relationship she had shared with...him. The destruction of one of the ships at the guns of the other had shadowed the betrayal she'd suffered at Malak's orders. 

Not important now. The only important thing is that you know the way to the bridge. 

Bastila undoubtedly knew the layout as well, she'd been on the team to board the Coruscate. The strike team would have made for the bridge straight off. Carth would be familiar with the layout as a matter of course, but probably had not actually served on an Interdictor class... 

“You remember the way?” Bastila demanded when the doors opened in front of Sarah. 

“Yes. I remember the way. And anyway...” Sarah grinned, pointing unerringly down the hall. “Even if I didn't...Karath is that way.”


	56. Chapter 56

She was Revan. As much as Carth wanted to deny it, he could see it now. What foolishness had led the Enclave to believe that they, that Bastila, could control this? Use this? They had risked it all on an endeavor so desperate that his mind had difficulty working itself around it. And in doing so, the Enclave had given him over to her, gift wrapped for her convenience. And then, he'd given the rest of himself over to her, freely. He loved this woman, when he'd sworn he'd never love again. It was bitterly unfair, another hit to take his knees right out from underneath him, just when he'd allowed himself to perhaps see a brighter future. When he'd allowed himself to hope again. So...why didn't he feel hopeless? Where was the dread he should feel? He hurt like hell, everything ached, burned, itched, and he stank...but he didn't feel defeated. Was this the feeling that had tied people to her, following her over the edge? Was this why Karath had broken? Did he feel the same serenity by following Malak? Carth had stood beside Bastila, supposedly under the sway of her all important battle mediation, and had never felt this assured. 

How could he love Revan? How could he not? She led the way, a brilliant beacon of rosy light...her lightsaber ignited before her, and all he could do was follow. After all, he'd promised her that he had her back... he'd promised that and a whole lot more. 

I've fallen. 

But she was all he had left. Now that he saw just how empty his life had become, he couldn't go back to it. And if she was still on target to complete the mission, he was still her pilot. But how could she still be on target? She was Revan. She was Darth Revan. Or was she Sarah? What was she? What was he to her, now? 

Admiral-Consort. 

Yeah, that. No, he was still her pilot. Admirals commanded vessels like this glorious vessel...admirals commanded fleets. He was fighting to get back to a simple freighter. Darth Revan's simple freighter... how the mighty fell. 

He had been concerned that she would be off, he could still feel the warm blanket of drugs around her presence, pulling her down, away from him, but she moved with the focused grace and purpose he was used to seeing when she had a lightsaber in hand and the thought that she was going to need to use it. They had to do this fast, before the bridge crew understood what was coming... Before Karath could run. 

She and Bastila fought together like two pieces of the same soul, falling on the first set of guards they came to like a pair of hunting kath hounds, cutting them down in a flurry of strikes and swings. 

“There should be more crew than this.” Carth muttered and Sarah glanced at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were still simmering, golden, but he sensed no malevolence from her...at least not targeted at him. She sent him a knowing smile, almost secretive.

“Many ships, not enough manpower.” She stated and he nodded slowly. It was one thing to produce ships in a hurry like the Sith had, but apparently another thing altogether to adequately crew them. If they'd had access to only the crews that she'd led out of the Republic, the addition of so many new vessels must be stretching them thin. “But there is a watch barracks and ready room between us and the bridge. It won't be nearly as easy.” And judging by the width of her grin, she didn't consider that a problem at all. 

And it really wasn't. Throw two Jedi who moved as one entity into a room large enough for them to fight in, but too small for their targets to run from them in, add one gun and stir. Sarah was beautiful, driven, sharp and oh, so able...shadowed by Bastila every step, every slide, every leap of the way. They were marvelous, both of them. If anybody could do the impossible, it would have to be this couple. They slammed through a dozen Sith like they had fought together for years...

“Bridge.” Sarah snapped, moving through the ready room, leaving Bastila to handle the last two survivors on her own. “Meet you there, Bastila.”

“Right.” 

Sarah stepped into the corridor, gaining a sudden rush of speed, her steps silent against the decking. Carth barely made it into the corridor in time to see the end of what had attracted her attention, the second bridge guard slumping to the ground. Nothing else stood between them and the bridge...nothing between him and Karath but that door. Finally. After all this time...

“Are you sure you want this?” Sarah asked softly, and he bit his lip. Did he? Did he really? The answer was as obvious as the marks rising on his body. Yes. Hell, yes. The man needed to die, and he was the one to get it done. 

“Yes. He's mine, Sarah. Mine.” 

“Yours.” She agreed and pushed the button. Carth was surprised, he'd been expecting the bridge security doors to be locked, but the doors slid open immediately at Sarah's touch. And there, just meters in front of him...Saul Karath. It was as if his mind shut down, target locked on what he was there for...

Sarah rushed the bridge, flicking her hand in Saul's direction, and Carth wanted to scream profanities at her. She knew what he wanted, he needed to do it, not her, not like that. Saul was snatched off of his feet, spun into the air, where he whirled impotently. 

“Save the best for last.” He knew she hadn't spoken aloud, but he still heard her thought as she barreled by him to intercept Karath's guards before they reached him. He ducked out of the doorway, hitting the open lock as he did so... Bastila should be right behind them. She was going to be Sarah's main support, while he laid down covering fire as best he could. 

Finally, after all of these years, he was going to get vengeance. He was going make Karath pay for everything the man had ever done to him, ever done to his family, his home-world. His soul. Morgana, I love you. This was going to give him the chance to finally achieve what he had ached for, dreamed of, for years. An end to the debt. With this behind him, he could finally let her go. Not forget her, that would never, ever happen as long as he drew breath, but he could begin to fold away the loss. 

Bastila launched by him, moving without hesitation to help Sarah. The bridge was lit by their sabers, Sarah's rosy dawn blade and Bastila's twinned golden ones. And then, the only one left was Karath, still held where Sarah had put him at the beginning. 

She stared at him for a long, measuring moment before releasing him to fall gasping to the decking. “He's all yours, Carth.” She said, moving to the commander's station to study the screens. “We don't have much time to play with our toys, however.” A line had formed between her brows, and her glare deepened. 

“Understood. Can anybody use a lightsaber?” 

“Use, or use well?” Her fingertips flew over Karath's input station keyboards, her lower lip captured by her teeth as she typed. 

“Use well enough to kill him.” He needed to be the one to take the killing blow, but Sarah had been betrayed as well. And lightsaber wounds were notoriously difficult to heal. If he lit into Karath with Sarah's lightsaber, nothing was going to be bringing him back...not even Karath's Dark Lord. And this was something he needed to do, face to face. To see into Karath's eyes, to remember this forever.

“Ah, yes.” She slammed one final command into the system, “Not a problem. Here. Just make sure you don't have either end pointed at yourself and push the button.” She tossed it at him and he snatched it out of the air, turning it over in his hand. It felt warm, alive, and he thumbed the discreet button set in one of the swirls. It ignited, humming in his grasp, and he turned on Karath. The man had remained stubbornly silent during the exchange, his expression set in equal parts fear and resignation. 

“You're going to be no different than I am when this is all said and done, Onasi.” Karath stated, his eyes flicking between the three of them. “You're on the same path.” 

“Just one question.” Carth said, lifting the lightsaber to study the blade. “Who ordered the bombing of Telos?” What was he going to say, do, if the answer was Revan? He had her lightsaber in his hand. She was as vulnerable right now as she ever was going to be. Bastila was on the other side of the bridge... 

“Revan ordered the offensive against Telos.” Karath chuckled, and Sarah shifted uncomfortably beyond Carth. He could sense her denial, her outrage, her doubt. 

“That's not what I asked. I asked who ordered the bombing.” Telos had been a primary target, he could understand that. With Revan's forces coming up the Hydian Way...

“Malak.” Karath whispered. “Revan ordered the fleets to seize Telos, for its resources. Minimal civilian losses, food production intact. But Malak wanted me to prove myself to him, prove I was willing to betray Revan, to betray the Republic, to betray you.” 

Carth knew that lightsabers cut through almost anything. He'd seen it in action. He just wasn't expecting how easily it went through Karath's abdomen...how easily it went through the bulkhead behind the man. “For my wife. My son.” He hissed, yanking the hilt upwards. “You son of a bitch.” 

Karath slid to the decking, dead, landing in a heap at his feet. Carth wanted to stand there forever, to savor every moment of it, but he knew he couldn't. He could feel Sarah's anxiety, her desire to move. “Carth...”

“I know. Malak is here. We need to go, and you'll need this.” He extinguished her lightsaber and returned it to her. While he'd love to gloat, he had responsibilities. Responsibilities to Sarah, to Bastila, to Mission and the others. It was one thing to have done what he had, another thing altogether to endanger those closest to him to bask in it. “You get everything disabled?”

“On my end. Looks like Mission has the rest down on her end. Let's go.” 

Carth nodded. It shouldn't be too far to the Hawk, they just had to hold it together a little bit longer. Once in hyperspace, they could collapse. Until then, they just had to keep going. Then he could get things looked at and dose himself up with painkillers. Then Sarah could sleep off those drugs. It would all be okay. 

“Small craft bays should be this way...” Sarah snapped, heading into the warren of Leviathan's ominous corridors, making sharp, decisive turns. She certainly felt like she knew where she was going, and Bastila seemed more than agreeable following her path, right up until the moment when Sarah slid to a sudden halt, tilting her head. Carth had rarely seen doubt on Sarah's face, but that was exactly what that expression was. She took one small step backwards, almost directly towards him...and then three sudden, larger ones, pushing him along behind her. “Bastila...” She breathed a warning. 

“I know. Sarah, there's no other way. We have got to...” 

The security door at the opposite end opened, and Carth's heart stopped. A large man stood in the opening, his dark eyes flicking over the threesome. They lingered the least amount on Carth, moved to Bastila, and finally settling on Sarah and did not move. “I did not believe it when I heard.” He wore a cybernetic jaw, his voice was gravelly and filled with reverberation, he was bald...but Carth still recognized him. He was a twisted, warped version of the man that Carth had met on the Arkanian Legacy seven years ago. Then he'd been Alek. Then he'd been an ally. Now he was a barrier, something standing between them and the Hawk. Now he was a threat. “But I see it is so, Amasri. You're still alive.” 

“Alek.” Sarah breathed. That one single name held a wealth of emotions, or maybe it was just that Carth could feel her reaction to the other man, and that reaction was a welter of pain, confusion, sadness. She and Alek had served together for years...been raised in the same Enclave from childhood. She had more of a history with Malak than even he'd had with Karath. Years...no, decades. They'd been together through the entirety of the War. They'd risen together. They'd fallen together. And now, they faced each other once again. 

“I should have known it would not be that easy to destroy you. Perhaps it is a good thing that once again, you defy the very odds against you...my dear.” Malak's eyes moved from Sarah's face, back to Carth. “You led this one to a gift of vengeance...but now you owe me an Admiral. I felt Karath die. And you bring me a gift. Bastila. Finally.” 

“I owe you, Alek. That is very, very true. Good and bad, I owe. And good and bad, you owe. Neither one of us is clean.”

“Have you lost your mind, Amasri? Why are you here? Have you come to challenge me? Face to face, as it should be done?” As I should have done it? I do regret not facing you, my dear. What I did was expedient, but not what either one of us deserved. You deserved to go down fighting like the Dark Lord you were, and I deserved to ascend without that shadow clinging to my reign. I hear them, behind my back, whispering that I was not good enough to face you...that I chose the coward's way. But today...” 

Sarah had been listening to him with that 'something smells' look that Carth knew all too well. It was that expression she got when the Force was talking to her, loudly. “You always did talk too much, Alek.” She spat, launching herself into the air, igniting the lightsaber as she fell towards him. Carth, forewarned by her expression, opened fire on Malak, hoping that the man would be distracted by the fact he had Revan about to land on his face, lightsaber first. Malak was not distracted by the spectacle in the least, Force pushing Carth into the unyielding metal bulkhead behind him. Pain bloomed on top of the receding agony that he'd been doing his best to work through, to ignore. A further insult arrived a split second later, when Malak Force pushed Sarah as well. She flipped gracefully in the air, somehow managing to adjust her trajectory to slide through the still open hatch...and she did it while drugged into a warm and fuzzy place. 

She can't take him. Not like this. 

As far as Carth knew, Malak was at the top of his form...uninjured, in full control of his faculties. He wasn't drugged. He probably remembered all of his training, all of his experience, all of his life. He was the Dark Lord of the Sith, and he was being faced down by an unlikely threesome. Their chances were not good...and it was a sobering fact that Bastila was their best hope at that moment. 

Well, at least if he was going to die, he'd go knowing he'd taken Karath to the grave before him. He'd die at Sarah's side. It was an oddly calming realization, and he pushed himself to his feet, drawing another bead on Malak. 

“Carth.” It was Bastila's voice, in his head. “He is going to kill Sarah.” 

As if Carth didn't know that already. And afterward, he'd either kill Carth, or twist him. And Carth would rather die. He couldn't lose another woman that he loved. He couldn't remain intact and true to himself turned on his own people. 

“He will not kill me, no matter what.” 

And Carth didn't like where she was going with this. 

“So close, Carth. Take Sarah and run when you have the chance. And I will give you that chance. Together, the pair of you can get this done. And then you can come for me...” 

If he didn't, this had all been for nothing. Sarah would die. He might die, and if he didn't, he'd be just another Saul Karath, despised by his own. Bastila would still be taken. Mission, Zaalbar, Canderous... They were running out of time. Eventually someone would get the Leviathan's guns back up...

“I understand, Bastila.” He snapped, turning his attention to Sarah. She had been been punted back into the hallway, much farther down this time, and he simply stepped the two paces to clear the hatchway, following her into the corridor beyond. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Carth? You can't...” Sarah snarled, gathering herself for a return leap, when the hatch slammed shut. “You son of a bitch! Bastila!”

“Come on. We have got to go.” The idea made him sick, but Bastila was correct. It had to be done. And it was only worth it if he could move Sarah, and fly the Hawk out of here. “If we don't, then this has all been for nothing. Please, Sarah.” It would be impossible for him to force her to do anything. Even drugged, she was more than his equal, and he wasn't in the best shape either. She had to understand. She had to know. 

“I can't leave Bastila. Carth, she's... a part of me. The bond...” 

“Sarah, damn it, move!” He pushed her, ignoring the threatening stare she gave him. “Move! Now!” He was yelling commands at Darth Revan. If it wasn't so terrible, it would be laughable. She gave him a final stare, before nodding and bursting into a lope towards the next small craft bay down. Well, at least she was headed in the correct way, even if she proceeded with that insulting grace...leaving him to grit his teeth and do his best to keep up with her. 

The Hawk was right where she was supposed to be, Canderous standing on the ramp. The Mandalorian's sharp gaze took in the pair of them, flicking back towards the hatch when Bastila did not appear. “We're leaving now.” Carth spat, following Sarah up the ramp and even with Canderous. “Are the engines powered up?”

“They are.” Canderous's voice was dangerously level, but there was no recrimination in his eyes. He simply slapped the button to close the external iris, falling into step with Carth. “Are you up to flying us out of here?”

“Yeah. Just keep Mission away from us for now. And prep the medbay...for both of us.” He couldn't deal with Mission at the moment, it would just be too much. And the second they were in hyperspace, he'd be down, unconscious. As would Sarah. That should hold Mission away from them until they were able to face this. 

“Understood.” Canderous moved away, towards the main bay and the med bay... He'd keep Mission occupied and possibly usefully busy while they got the ship in the air. 

Sarah sat in the copilot's seat, glaring at the innocent screens laid out before her. She'd begun the take off procedure already, all he had to do was sit down, take the yoke, and fly. “You can go to sleep, babe.” He sighed, gently lifting off from the Leviathan's decking. The mass approach sensor tied to the bay doors triggered, and they opened to reveal stars beyond. He sighed, closed his eyes, and pulled back the throttle. The engines engaged, and he opened his eyes to watch the readouts. They should have a window to get into hyperspace, headed for Nar Shaddaa, before the Leviathan's secondary bridge crew could override what Sarah and Mission had done to the ship. But should and did were not always the same... “Jump in...fifteen seconds. Any sign of pursuit?” He more than half expected her to be asleep. She'd been fighting to remain conscious through all of this, but she shifted to give herself a better view of her screens. 

“Negative. Board clear. Leviathan's main gun board coming back online. Estimated time to resolution... thirty three seconds.” Her voice was slurry but calm. She was Revan, she did what needed to be done. Once, he'd even hoped to serve under her, on Coruscate, but he'd been so attached to Karath's command that the option had never even been truly considered. 

“And...” He pulled back the hyperspace throttles, half expecting to hear the interdictor well again, but the Hawk dropped smoothly into hyperspace. “We're away.” 

Sarah responded with silence. He steeled his nerves before turning to look at her...he was expecting the rage he found in her eyes, but he was not expecting the devastation in their depths. “I am so, so sorry, babe.” He breathed, extending his hand to her. She wasn't going to take it, she was going to turn away from him...

She did more than take it, she moved to seek solace in his embrace, sobbing into his jacket. And all he could do was ignore the pain and wrap his arms around her, pressing a kiss into her messy hair. What the hell did he call her now? Sarah? Amasri? Revan? Revan. He was holding Revan. 

“I got Mission otherwise occupied and the med bay prepped. Who's first?” Canderous asked slowly from the hatch behind them and Carth sighed. He was still solidly conscious at the moment, but he could feel her growing limp in his grasp. Her breathing was sketchy, shallow and fleeting...she reminded him suddenly of the first moments after he'd dragged her out of the escape pod on Taris. When she'd almost died in his arms, just like Morgana had... 

“She goes first. I don't know what they gave her to knock her on her ass but it's working too damned well. Other than that, she should be okay...physically.” At least her eyes were closed now, and the telltale signs of the slip that had come on the heels of her learning the truth were hidden. 

“And you? I'm well acquainted with looking like hell, and you definitely qualify. Much more than you did coming off of Kashyyyk.”

“I...” He'd been avoiding actually considering it, fighting it back. “Broke a couple of teeth. Bit my tongue. Busted a couple of ribs, I think. Fried in a torture cage.” It wasn't bravado but simply exhaustion. He was too tired, too much in pain, and now too damned heartsick to make a big deal out of it. Out of any of it. “And she's had a very bad day.” He stroked...Sarah's...hair back. Until he was certain, he was just going to keep calling her that. 

“Bastila?” Canderous asked, carefully sliding a hand between Carth and Sarah's abdomens and shifting her weight off of him. She turned sleepily, apparently quite comfortable with the change in men holding her, burying her face in Canderous's shoulder and murmuring in Mandalorian. He murmured back, rocking her up until he could completely take her weight in his arms. 

“Held off Malak while we made a run for it.” 

“I see. And where are we going now? Korriban? Or are we changing plans?” 

“We're...” Carth gingerly stood, balancing by gripping the pilot's seat. “Changing plans. We changed them before this...” Well, Canderous needed to know sometime, and thinking about it gave Carth something else to focus on. “We made the decision after Kashyyyk to not take Mission or the Ebon Hawk to Korriban. Now we're certain that Malak knows the Hawk. It'd be even more stupid to take it to Korriban.” Now we're certain that Malak knows Revan is alive...

“Good.” The very lack of extra words from the Mandalorian balmed Carth's nerves. Canderous was rarely talkative, but now he was taking the minimum necessary wordage to an art form. “We don't know what she's been given?” He asked, leading the way out of the cockpit, towards the medbay. 

“Not a clue. Can you take care of her while I take a quick shower? I stink.” And once he went down, he wasn't getting back up again. 

“I can. I will.” Canderous promised, carrying her back towards the medbay, Carth trailing silently. He just wanted to be left alone, but that wasn't going to happen. The best he was going to get was Canderous, and that was close enough. 

He stepped into the refresher, and slowly undressed. The marks on his flesh were now undeniably obvious, fine branching fronds of pink and red, with the occasional blotch of a rising blister covered his chest and stomach. “Fuck me.” He growled, tossing his clothing into the corner. He avoided the mirror altogether...if a Mandalorian veteran told him he looked like hell, he was going to believe it, and he stepped into the shower...fighting down the trembling that wanted to take over when he tried to relax. 

He washed as best he could, scrubbing was out of the question, wrapped a towel around his waist and moved silently to the medbay. The ship was terribly quiet, as if it was holding its breath, the muffled sounds of the hyperspace drive echoing through the corridors. Canderous had Sarah laid out in the medbay, hooked up to machines. Carth glanced at them just long enough to make certain nothing was blinking, red, or worst, blinking and red before he settled onto the empty bed across the tiny bay. “She going to live?”

Canderous chuckled, resting his fingertips on her forehead. “That one is as tough as a strill. She'll sleep it off given enough time. You, on the other hand, seem to have gotten the thin end of the stick. Let me first give you this...” He turned around with a syringe and Carth never heard what came second... the moment the painkiller hit his system, he fell into unconsciousness.


	57. Chapter 57

“You're leaving me behind.” Bastila's voice was filled with doubt, and Amasri sighed. If she were only a little older, a little more experienced, a little less vital to the upcoming war effort, then Amasri could justify taking her. But Bastila was not a little older, not a little more experienced, and she was terribly vital to the war effort. And something more, Amasri just wasn't certain exactly what that was. All she knew was that Bastila should not, could not, follow her into this war. “Master, I am up to the task. I can prove myself to you if you only give me the chance. Don't leave me behind... please. I should be at your side.”

“Bastila. What is your greatest dream in life?” 

“Do not use that against me, Master. It's a terrible question to ask of me now. I am your padawan. I should follow you wherever you go. I want to. It is where I belong.” 

Amasri frowned, looking out over Dantooine's serene prairie, her hands on the small wall that marked off the beginning of the Enclave complex. It was safe here, for now. “You didn't answer my question, padawan.” 

Bastila's expression was hunted, she twisted her fingers in her tunic, obviously trying to come up with the best way to convince Amasri to give in, to change her mind. And Amasri was not known for changing her mind easily... “To become a Jedi Knight, to make my Master proud. To serve the Republic as a shining beacon.” 

“Hhhhhmmmm.” Amasri breathed, the breeze stirring her hair. “The Council disapproves of my actions. I am coming perilously close to being banished from the Order. Hardly the best route for you to become a Jedi Knight...by disobeying the Masters of the Order.” 

“You need me behind you. You're going to war. Master, I am ready. And you do not address the other two parts of that...to make you proud. And to serve the Republic. I'm not too young. Other masters are taking their padawans. I know Alek will be there to watch over you, but I... Master, if you leave me, who will be my teacher? You, you are my master. I am not something to be abandoned, left behind.”

Sarah jerked awake, her heart thundering in her ears. She rested on one of the beds in a tiny ship's medbay, but all of the monitors next to the bed were dark, turned off. The light directly overhead her bed, also turned off, dropping this side into a gloomy shadow. The other side of the room was lit, but dimly, and she could hear the repetitive sounds of a medical monitor beeping quietly. She knew who it was well before she looked over, she could feel him like she felt everyone who was, or had been, close to her. Even in that hallway, she'd felt Malak. Not as deeply, purely clear as she could feel Carth now, but the current had been there, a tie she could not deny. 

“Hey, big guy.” She forced the syllables through parched lips, but Carth did not so much as twitch in response. He was far, far away from her. “Hell of a day.” If it was even the same day. She doubted if it was. 

She laid her palms on his bare chest, feeling his warmth against her skin. What an absolute, unadulterated clusterfuck. I am not Revan. Oh, if only she could believe that, if only that idea would solidly click in her soul. No, the only thing that wanted to click was that she was. It was the only explanation that made any sense at all anymore. I am Revan, the Butcher. But how? Why? That was as much of an empty hole as anything else had been before...again, her past, denied to her. 

I've lost Bastila. And that was a much more immediate and disturbing issue. First, for what it was...the obvious, that Bastila had been captured and was being held. Leaving someone from her command behind was something that ate at her soul. And the other... Bastila was bound to her. Now Malak held something intrinsically tied to her. She would have to make a decision, a terrible, terrible decision... The first tears slid down her nose, splashing on Carth's chest, and he stirred irritably under her touch. 

His eyes finally opened and he covered her hands with one of hers. “I look that bad?” He whispered, and she snorted. As a matter of fact, he did. But he was still here, present and accounted for. He might be marked with burns, blisters, his cheeks oddly chubby, bruised and battered, but she could still touch him. She hadn't done such a great job of looking out for him, but she hadn't lost him. 

“You look pretty bad. I'm sorry, I should have...” Done something else. Done something better. Something more. Something. “What's the use of having an ex Dark Lord of the Sith as a girlfriend if she can't kick ass for you?” It was put out as a joke, but Sarah was terrified. What the hell did she do now? 

Malak cannot be allowed to hold the Star Forge. He is not stable enough to hold it at bay. It will consume him. He must be stopped. You created him, you must end him. 

Carth relaxed, closing his eyes. “Can anybody hear us?” He murmured around what she then understood was packing in his mouth. She paused, feeling out with her senses. Mission was in the starboard dorm...with Zaalbar, both were deeply asleep. Canderous was in the main bay, dozing. If an alarm on Carth's monitor went off, if either one of them got loud, he'd wake up. But like this, no. 

“Not if we keep it down. Canderous has one ear open.” She corralled the stool against the wall and pulled it close enough to sit on. She sat for a long, silent moment, her forehead resting against his arm. She couldn't blame him if he decided to bail. It would be a sane reaction to a truly insane situation. He could simply return to Coruscant, and bring the admiralty the truly unwelcome news that Darth Revan was not nearly as gone as the Enclave claimed. He could just forget...he could just run. 

“You really didn't know.” It wasn't a question, but a statement...his fingertips sinking into her hair. “They hid that from you. They hid who you really were, from you.” 

“I really didn't know.” A terrible truth. Bastila's responses made sense...Bastila had been sent to recover her, her master... from the Coruscate. It was exactly what Sarah's memories of her said she would do if called upon to do so. She would have fought to get on that strike team, to go after Sarah. That was the sort of person she was, and Sarah clenched her teeth. Bastila had risked her life to keep Sarah alive on the Coruscate's bridge. And she'd risked more to be the one to try to manage this, the only one who she'd trust with Sarah...with Revan. “I swear, Carth. I did not know.” I didn't lie to you. 

“And us?” He sounded exhausted, as if the question was almost too much to ask. Or that the expected answer would be too much for him to take. Or he was simply exhausted. 

“I still feel the same way about you now as I did before. That hasn't changed, Carth.” Everything else had, but that part of her understanding remained firm. The question was, was it the same with him? “I love you. I want to be with you.” He was the only thing that made any sort of sense in her life. 

“And the plan? The Star Forge? Malak?” He stroked her hair slowly. 

“Malak has Bastila. I'm going to get her back. And...Malak is my Karath, Carth. I trusted him, I loved him, and things went badly.” She'd played a part in that, but none of that truly mattered now. She'd tear him apart to get Bastila back. “Malak must die. He can't keep the Star Forge. I don't see where the plans have changed at all.” 

“And do you want the Star Forge back?” 

Nooooo. 

“No. I don't.” She didn't really expect him to believe her, but it was the truth. The very thought if it was disturbing, frightening. That was no place she wanted to go back to. Even though she might not agree with what the Enclave had been trying to achieve with what they had done, she could see where this was a gift, freedom, for her. Another chance, a break in whatever insanity had possessed her. “Carth, I...” 

She had no words for a long moment, and he remained steadfastly quiet to the point she was afraid he'd fallen back to sleep, but when she lifted her head to look at him, he was definitely still awake...his gaze on her. “I don't remember what I did that went so wrong. And all I see when I try to look there is that I don't want to go back there. That this has been an escape. A reprieve. Maybe a chance at redemption, or at least to help fix what I broke. But I don't want to be Darth Revan. I don't know why that ever was. I understand why I was Revan...and I'd do that again. But the rest of it, no.” 

“So you want to fight for yourself.” 

She couldn't have put it better, herself. “Yeah. I want to fight to get myself back. I have to fight to get Bastila back. And I have to fight what I've done...with Malak. With the Star Forge. Otherwise we, you and I, don't stand a chance. He knows now. He's not going to forget.” And eventually he's going to break Bastila. When he does that, I'm next...unless I cut her out of me before she breaks. But if I do that, she has no chance. 

“Hey.” He breathed, fighting to maneuver into a reclined position. “Sarah...what?” 

“He holds Bastila, and Bastila and I share that bond. If I cut her away, he can't use it against me, but it yanks all of the support I can give her right out from underneath her. She doesn't stand a chance if I do that. Or I hold her tight and take the risk that I can't handle it.” 

“Then you hold her tight and we run that risk. If we're going to do this, then we do it. I just have one question.” He sighed, running fingers over his cheek and grimacing when he poked the wad of packing. 

Only one? Amazing. Sarah had hundreds. So many that she wasn't sure where she could even get started with them. “And it is?” 

“What do you want me to call you now? Amasri? That was your name first, I think. Revan? Sarah?” 

Sarah. It is your name from here on out. “Sarah. That's who I am now. Amasri died with Revan. And Revan dies with Sarah.” That was his question? His only question? “You hurt?”

“Nope. I do not hurt. I feel no pain whatsoever. Whatever Canderous gave me works wonders.” He gave her a lopsided, rueful smile, resting his palm against her cheek. “And we keep this to ourselves, babe.” 

“Agreed.” Nobody else needed to know, especially if they were going to Korriban alone. “About Korriban...” Well, there was one good thing about the sudden influx of random information that learning who she was had given her. “I remember Korriban. I remember where the fragment is. I remember what's there.” 

“Sith. Lots of Sith. I hope you have some idea of how to make this work.” 

As a matter of fact, she did. She just didn't think he was going to enjoy it nearly as much as she was going to.


	58. Chapter 58

Nar Shaddaa. It was never a place that Carth Onasi had ever thought he'd actually come to. He'd heard of it, of course, because who hadn't? But it wasn't the venue that an upstanding Republic officer like himself normally sought out. He sighed, prodding his breakfast with a spoon and doing his damnedest to not feed into Mission's palpable fear and horror. 

“Does it hurt?” She finally asked, and Sarah glanced between the two of them. Canderous snorted dubiously at the very idea, but he knew what he'd done to Carth. Zaalbar remained watchfully silent. 

“No. Nothing hurts.” Nothing hurt at all. In addition to that lack of pain, there was also the lack of sensation in his lips, his tongue, and his fingertips. Whatever he was on, it was equal to the task of dealing with the fallout from a Mandalorian vet's version of field expedient dentistry. But he still felt focused, almost okay, up to the task of landing the freighter at Nar Shaddaa when they entered approach vector. For some reason, Sarah wanted to stand off for awhile, to join a cluster of equally disreputable freighters doing the same damned thing. Why, he didn't know...but she gave the orders. And whatever served as approach at Nar Shaddaa apparently agreed with her timetable because they'd done nothing else but acknowledge their request for a certain landing zone and time to touch down with a vaguely positive sounding grunt. “I'm okay, Mission.” He wished he could smile to get the point across, but that was out of the question. They were going to have to tell her sometime that she was going to be left with Canderous and the ship, but he didn't have the heart to do both that and face eating pudding for breakfast. He was starving, he wanted food. Not mush. 

“He's okay, Mission. You did a great job, I knew you could.” Sarah was back to her normal self, her eyes were gray, the rage in her features gone. She reached over and gave the teenager a supportive squeeze on the shoulder. 

“But...Bastila.” 

“Not your fault. And we'll get her back.” Sarah sighed, picking at her own breakfast. Carth would kill for it, but it was obvious she wasn't going to eat it, only tease him with it. “You're going to be with Canderous for this part, Mission. Keeping the Hawk safe.” 

“But...where are you going?” 

“Carth and I are still going to Korriban. There's no other choice.”

No other choice. That should unnerve him more than it did. All of this should unnerve him more than it did. But he'd follow her into hell if she asked him to... and the very knowledge that she was going sealed the deal. The thought that she would go somewhere dangerous, without him standing by her side, was too terrible to contemplate. Now he finally understood what had seemed so incomprehensible during the last stages of the War, and then the aftermath. If she'd asked, he would have followed her wherever she'd gone... that place that had broken her. Broken Alek. Broken Karath. But he would go there with her now, without a second thought. 

“Malak knows we're here now. Malak knows we're on the Hawk. Korriban will be alerted to this, if we arrive there with it, we'll be shot out of the sky.” It was so coldly logical when Sarah put it like that, swiping any complaints that Mission might come up with right out from underneath her. How could one argue with that? 

“So what is the plan?” He finally asked and Sarah glanced at him warily. Whatever it was, she wasn't entirely pleased with it. No, she didn't think he was going to be entirely pleased with it. And she was apparently unwilling to discuss it in front of Mission, Zaalbar, and Canderous, dismissing it with a tiny wave of her fingers and an eye drop to the floor.

Later. In private. 

“Nar Shaddaa is one of the few places we can find transport to Korriban.” 

Well, that was true. If one had money, they could find anything on Nar Shaddaa. Money was the only force in the universe that swayed the Hutts, and they controlled Nar Shaddaa. Their only interest in the struggle between the Republic and the Sith was how much profit that they could squeeze from it. But leaving from here would mean letting someone else do the flying, and that was never something he tolerated easily. 

“Why are we waiting?” 

“I want to spend the least amount of time possible with the Hawk down on Nar Shaddaa. The least amount of time possible out in the open. We'll arrive at the right time. And I need to shift some of the cargo. It's coming with us.” 

He froze at those words, pieces falling together in his mind. “Sarah...” He breathed warningly and she gave him an enigmatic half smile in response. The only 'cargo' that they were carrying was a load of high quality Firaxian sharkskin. He'd felt compelled to buy it on Manaan, it had been necessary... It had been a gift for her... 

“Gotta look the part, Carth. Gotta look the part.” 

Of a Sith Lord. 

 

They landed a couple of hours later, relegated to a tiny landing pad just large enough for the Hawk... it took a good part of Carth's skill to get her down with pinpoint accuracy, securely on the pad while giving Canderous the best take off profile, and still giving them enough room to get Sarah's crates out of the hold. She gave him an approving smile from the co-pilot's seat, then grimaced slightly, glancing around the cockpit. “I want to apologize ahead of time for what's coming up.” She muttered, and he sighed. So here it came...

“There's only one way we can make it through Korriban.” She stated, and he nodded slowly. He had an inkling of her plans, but she still needed to say it. He needed to hear it. He couldn't leave this up to his imagination... 

“You as a Sith Lord.” It wasn't a stretch. She had been one, and she obviously still had the inclination to be one, only slightly obscured now by what the Enclave had done to her. “And me as...” 

“Mine.” 

Yup. That was exactly what he was afraid of. But he'd be overlooked as a slave, expected to stick closely to her, silently. It would get him down on Korriban. He wouldn't be expected to know/do/say anything. All he'd need to do was exactly what she told him to do. Like it or not, it worked. Even his current condition worked. He wouldn't have to try to cover the telltale marks of a long session in a torture cage, he could display them openly. 

“You're going in as Revan?” It was ballsy crazy, but so was the situation. 

“No.” Her voice faded into uncertainty...she was pulling from half memories, he recognized that expression. Following her gut. “No Revan. That'll bring Malak down on our heads in a heartbeat. I'm...” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “Darth Augural. On a pilgrimage from...” She swayed in her seat and he reached out to steady her, holding onto her shoulder. “Someplace I'm not allowed to remember.” She spat, returning to herself. “Fine. I can bluff with the best of them. I won't be recognized. Let's go.” 

 

He followed her down the ramp, blinking against the assault of brightly colored lights...before delving in his pocket and producing his sunglasses. The air was heavy with pollution, raucous noise, oppression and desperation, like a bigger, bolder Taris. “First stop?” Hopefully she had some idea, none of this looked like anyplace he'd ordinarily be. 

“Tailor.” She sighed, watching Canderous move the crates off, her expression resigned. When he was done, balancing the smallest crate on the top of the dolly, she strode towards him...Carth trailing in her wake. The Mandalorian watched them come, folding his arms over his chest. 

“What do you need done?” Canderous asked, “Or are the two of you taking this alone from here?” It was a sobering thought...alone from here. But Korriban was supposed to be the last fragment, right? The final step to locating the Star Forge? But then what? Bastila had been the one with the instructions, and they'd lost her. 

“No. We're not taking it alone from here...only Korriban. That is the place I can't take the ship to. After that, we'll need it back. If the Star Forge was easy to get to, the Republic would know where it was.” It was the correct statement, but Carth knew it was more than that. She might not remember the exact details, she still needed the final map fragment, but she recalled enough to let her know what she needed. “This is only temporary, Canderous. If you're still willing to go with us, then we take it all of the way. To the Star Forge.” 

“I'm still in, then. Waiting for your call.” He gave her a half smile, then clapped her on the shoulder. “Good luck to the both of you.” He extended a hand to Carth, who took it without reservation. Somewhere along the way, this man had become a comrade, a friend, and had ceased to be an enemy. I trust a Mandalorian. I trust Revan. 

Well, no. He didn't completely trust Revan. He was just so wrapped up in her that he couldn't step away, so he had to just close his eyes and give himself up to her. But he knew how foolish that actually was...but he honestly had nothing left to lose. He couldn't contemplate doing 'the right thing' at the moment, the idea of bolting, of running for Coruscant, the Admiralty, the Supreme Commander, seemed so desperately wrong. No, he intended to, as she put it, take it all of the way. To the Star Forge. 

He hugged Mission, sighing his way through her goodbyes and suffering through her overenthusiastic squeezes. Poor, poor kid. But Canderous would take care of her. Canderous would take care of the ship. Unfortunately, Canderous would not be around to help take care of Sarah on Korriban, but things were as they were. Carth would be it, the only person standing behind her. The only support that Revan was going to be taking onto Korriban with her... It was a terrifying thought. 

And then they were gone, leaving him and Sarah standing on the landing pad, alone with a dolly of crates on one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy. Sarah sniffed, shrugged, and fed in an address to the dolly's computer, falling into step behind it as it surged forwards. It led them deeper into the buildings, making seemingly random turns that simply confused Carth, until it stopped at an unmarked, dark storefront and idled there. Sarah's response was to simply let herself, and the dolly, in... opening the door as if she owned the place. But then again, she might just... He sighed, following her inside. 

 

“Hey. Do we look open?” A sharp male voice demanded from the shadows, and Carth dropped his hand to the butt of his blaster. It was difficult to get a grasp of his surroundings, there were so many dark piles of what could only be fabrics, judging by their sharp, clean smell. 

“Yes.” Sarah stated firmly. “You do, Sarl. I have a rush job for you.” 

“No way.” The lights flashed on, illuminating exactly what Sarah had claimed this place was, a tailor's shop, a maze of dusty piles of fabric. The voice belonged to a tall, thin, stooped man with wide, dark eyes. “You're dead. Gone.” 

“Perhaps I am dead, Sarl. But I am far from gone.” Her voice dropped comfortably into pissy mode, and her eyes were muddy when she stepped into the largest pool of light. “I need robes. And I need my...” she flicked her fingertips in Carth's direction, “Consort outfitted appropriately.” 

“Ah, right, of course, milord.” The man's eyes flicked to the dolly. “Ah, good. You brought supplies. Things have been lean recently, I do not have fabrics fine enough for the likes of you.” Carth would have been more comfortable if he sensed any joke in the man's response to her, some feeling that it was an act, or expected...but no. He was either a fine actor, or he believed that Sarah should be referred to as 'milord', and she deserved better than what he had on hand. “What have you brought me?”

“Firaxian shark skins.” She opened one of the crates and pulled one out, turning it to where the light played over its darkly iridescent surface. “Good enough?” 

The tailor picked it up, folding it in his hands. “Never good enough, but the best we have available at the moment. You came to me for your first set, and now, for your new one. Any requests?”

“I don't want to look like Revan. It's too soon for that, yet. I want to look like...” Carth could feel her struggling, desperate to pin down what she needed to say. “...Like I'm from the homeworld.” She was not pleased with that as an answer, but the tailor seemed to know exactly what she meant...or he was, again, the best actor that Carth had ever seen. 

“Of course, milord. Traditional, conservative Sith Lord. You have brought me just the right things for that. And your...consort? He looks a little like he's put up a fight recently. Against you? I can...”

“No.” She cut the man off before he truly got started, opening the smaller crate and setting it on the scarred table in the middle of the mess. “He is mine, but his place is right behind me. With a weapon. He is not a toy.” 

Damn straight I am not a toy. It was bad enough that he had to play act slave...the very least he demanded was to be put forward as a valuable one. He'd put up a fight for her, not against her. He would bow his head, call her milord when the time was right, but he didn't belong to her. 

Are you so sure about that one? 

He wished he knew. He wished he understood. But he was going to Korriban. That was what had to be done, and this was all just a part of that. He sighed, resigned, and shrugged out of his jacket and shirt. It wasn't as if he'd never been to a tailor before, he knew the drill.


	59. Chapter 59

Bend with it, Bastila. Do not break. Open the windows, look at what he shows you, but do not become blinded by it. Stay with me, as you always have. I am your true master. I was there when you were just a child. The real Alek would have never done this, and he dies inside from it. I am coming. You know that...

 

Sarah jerked out of a fitful, restless sleep, focusing on the shadowed ceiling above her. Carth was deeply asleep in the bed next to her, resting on his stomach, his face buried in the angle of his elbow. Good, he needed to recover, to take this break before they moved on to the next step. He'd been put through so much already, she relied on him so much that it was a relief to give him a moment to catch his breath, heal his wounds, and wrap his head around what she'd done to him. It came at Bastila's expense, but there was little that Sarah could do about that; she must look the part she was going to play and the robes of a Sith Lord must be carefully and lovingly crafted. The cadre at the Academy would see any mistake, any bobble she made. She had to be flawless, playing a role that had been hidden from her. Hadn't she attended the academy on Korriban? Been 'retrained' there? 

No...I was not. The only time I've been to Korriban was to secure the last fragment, the last time. I was retrained at...at...at

“Hey, babe! What the...?” She was being moved, pulled into Carth's embrace, somehow he was wide awake. “Sarah. Wake up. Shit. Please.” 

“'M awake.” She muttered into his shoulder, and he sighed, wrapping his fingers in her hair and holding her closely. “Sorry.” How long had she been out for? She had to stop doing that. Bastila had been the one who'd understood the process, who'd been trained to handle the fallout from the programming, from the damage. She held part of Sarah's soul, kept it complete. And now, she was gone. 

But he smelled good. He felt good, and she felt safe where she was. “We seem to have this thing for crappy apartments on terrible worlds.” She breathed into his bare skin and he chuckled in response. 

“We do, we do.” He agreed. “When we get through this, we'll have to make it an anniversary tradition to go find the dingiest apartment or hotel we can and hide in it for a couple of days. Just the two of us.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” They'd downgraded from a dismal one on Taris to an equally sad one on Nar Shaddaa, waiting. Biding their time. Healing him up, waiting for clothes, waiting for a vessel headed all of the way to Korriban. There weren't that many of those to be found. When we get through this...

He was correct, they had to. One way or the other. “I love you.” He had to understand that. 

“Sarah, we're going to look back at this in a couple of years and shake our heads at it all. We'll raise a drink to the memories of when we went out and saved the Republic. I promise you that.” 

I don't deserve you. But that was the last thing in the world she wanted him to understand. She wanted, intended, to keep him through this and beyond. “You feeling better?” 

“Sister, I'm not the one collapsed face down on the floor.” He whispered, relaxing his hold on her enough to where she could sit on his lap instead of resting across his chest. “You gotta stop doing that to me. I know you think you need to remember, but...” 

“I know. Let me take a look at you.” His injuries were easier to handle than hers. He could be tended to... a nice rub down with a burn ointment and a gentle scratching on his itchy spots and he'd be better. There was unfortunately no ointment that would help fix a brain injured and glitchy ex Sith Lord. 

“After dinner. You'll put me back to sleep, and I'm hungry.” Good, because he'd lost too much weight, his face lined with exhaustion. And this was simply a reprieve, they couldn't lose impetus. They had to go get Bastila. Her loss was a gnawing ache in Sarah's heart. “It's your turn to order.” 

She sighed, crawling out of the safety of his arms against her better judgment. But he was right, it was her turn to order dinner, and she turned her attention to her choices. It was not unusual for people to go to ground on Nar Shaddaa, there was a rich assortment of rundown rooms and small apartments just like this one, and a vibrant economy in place to make it comfortable and convenient for one to stay burrowed down, no questions asked. She was in a better position than most, the majority of the people who might look for her honestly thought she was dead. The Jedi had made certain of that...to the point where even most of the Order believed that Amasri Idarn, the Revanchist, had perished on Coruscate's bridge, a victim of circumstances that she had been heavily responsible for creating. In fact, if the Enclave at Dantooine had been razed as Karath had claimed, who even still knew that she still lived? Carth. Bastila. Malak. 

And who of those would talk? Carth? There was a good chance that he wouldn't, he had little to gain by it and a lot to lose. He'd only bring it up if he felt like it was his duty to. Bastila? She'd already done an amazing job of keeping it to herself, and she was involved up to her eyeballs in something that the Coruscant Temple might consider to be a flat out conspiracy, yet more dark sided shit from an Enclave apparently already considered to be tainted with it. No reason for her to talk. Malak? Who would believe him even if they heard him? And if he was gone, then Sarah could just vanish...she could just be Carth's wife. She could just be Sarah Onasi. It could all be over then. She was tired, worn.

You can rest when you've got your family out of this. Not until then. This was what the War was like, and you kept going through that for years. 

Her family. Just like before, she had to tighten her focus to the tangible instead of the ephemeral. Her family. Carth. Bastila. Mission. Canderous. Zaalbar. 

She ordered, choosing a hearty meal with sides of a rich dessert. If Carth was hungry, then she'd damn well feed him while she still could. The call finished, she collapsed on the bed behind him, reaching out to touch his hair. At least the apartment was clean, and quite a bit warmer than the Taris apartment had been. It was almost tolerable, except that whoever had done the decorating had a fondness for a rather putrid shade of green. 

“So. How permanent are these marks?” He finally asked, his voice even and she grimaced. They might fade, somewhat, but he'd carry the reminders of Karath's torture for the rest of his life. 

“They're permanent. I...” What was there to say? He had the fair complexion of a man who'd been a redheaded child, the perfect canvas for the intricate burns left behind by the overzealous use of the cage. “They might fade.” Hopefully. Maybe. Doubtfully. 

“Fuck my life.” He said it mildly, rubbing absently at the largest patch of fractal patterning scribed on his skin, centered on his sternum. She knew it itched now, it was healing and the blisters were mostly gone. It was heading into its scruffy, peeling stage and she scratched her fingertips along the blossoming of it on his back. He sighed in ecstasy and she chuckled, “As good as sex, eh?” 

“No, not even. But it's still damned good.” He arched his back, growling in appreciation. “Sarah, after this is all over...what do you want? Really?”

“To marry you, be your wife, and maybe have another little Onasi.” She knew she could never replace what he had lost, nor did she want to. She wasn't his late wife. Any children she might have would never be his lost son. But he'd have a family again, a wife, a child. He'd be a father and a husband again. “I have no future in the Order. I'm not even certain that they know I'm alive anymore. All of this...” She waved her hand next to his head, gesturing vaguely at herself, at him, at the apartment, “Was masterminded by the Enclave on Dantooine. And I think they're gone. I might...just...” She leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear. “Be free of this.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

“Yes. I don't remember what I did...but I am certain I was an absolute failure at being a Jedi Knight.” And she was getting a chance to leave that all behind her. To let it go. She needed to do what she could to make amends, to fix what she had broken, but after that... no. They hadn't allowed her to die, so she fully intended to live. 

He snorted, shaking his head. “You really do not remember, do you?” He whispered, and she frowned, well aware he couldn't see her face. No, she didn't. 

“No.” She breathed and he bowed his head. 

“Revan was a great Jedi. You were a great Jedi. I don't care what anybody else says. I don't care about what the Order will say. I'm going to say it. Sarah, you came when nobody else was going to help us.” He was shaking under her fingertips, he was angry. “You think you failed us? Maybe we failed you! Maybe we're to blame for all of this. The Republic, the Navy. You came at our call, and we got you into this. You did what you did at Malachor for us. You did what you had to do, and that was the crack that started all of this.” He turned to face her, burying his face in her stomach. “You don't take all of the blame, Sarah. I won't let you. And I won't let you or them take away what you were, and what you did for us.” 

“Very well, my dear.” If he was willing to put up an argument as to why this debacle wasn't completely her fault, she was more than willing to let him. If he could believe that there were other factors in Revan's fall, her fall, beyond the idea that she was innately flawed, then she should consider his words. He'd been there, on the other side of it all. He understood better than she did what had drawn her into the War. He remembered. She didn't. 

She rested her hands on his shoulders, drinking in his proximity. He was all she had left, she couldn't do this without him. His weight behind her was the only thing that counterbalanced her, kept her off of the edge. She'd looked in the mirror last night, she knew what she saw there. Losing Bastila was a blow she was not fending off with ease, leaving the bond open exposed her to Malak's attempts to warp Bastila to the dark side. There was nothing faint or obscured...the eyes that peered back at Sarah from the mirror were yellow. Pure, clear, bright yellow, the exact same shade of Bastila's lightsaber, seething with the same brilliant power as that instrument threw off. And likewise, Sarah's bond to Carth was left wide open, exposing him as well. But it had to be done. He was their final rock, the anchor that held them tight. He had to stand fast. 

“Dinner.” She sighed, sensing the soul enter the stairwell, their apartment number loudly carried on its thoughts. 

 

Sarl appeared the next morning, balancing two long boxes on his shoulders. “Milord.” He greeted, and Sarah gave a slight smile...not amused at his greeting, but the well tamped down response that Carth gave it. He'd have to get used to it, and used to it fast, because it was going to be coming out of his mouth on Korriban. “I understood that time was a limitation...”

Of course time was a limitation. Sarl would be happiest with months to work with, and endlessly deep pockets to fund it. She'd given him a week and only moderately deep pockets. If the Dantooine Enclave had indeed fallen, then all she had was all she had. 

“I'm certain you did the best with the constraints I put upon you.” She breathed, letting him into the apartment. If he found anything amiss with finding his Dark Lord and her Consort holed up in a gunk green apartment, he certainly didn't let it show. 

“I did, milord. Please take off your clothes and close your eyes.” That did it for Carth, his snigger was entirely audible, but Sarl did not lower himself to a reaction. Sarah sighed, peeling out of her clothes and standing in her underwear, her arms above her head, her eyes closed. She could read Sarl like an open tab on a datapad, his only thoughts, his only plots, were that she adored what he'd created for her. Nothing else. She was swallowed in warmth, in a weight that smelled wonderfully of the kolto rich waters of Manaan, and then that weight was settled on her shoulders and hips, then a hood was rested on her hair. She could feel Carth's amusement flee, he was awed into silence. “Oh, my.” He stated softly. “That's...beautiful.” 

Sarl chuckled, well pleased. “Open your eyes, milord.” 

This had better be right. This had better be good. 

She opened her eyes and blinked. She'd been chasing something that wasn't even a real memory...just a vague understanding deep in her mind, until she saw it actually on her. This wasn't what she'd worn as Revan, not even close. It wasn't what she'd worn as a Jedi Knight. It was something else, something entirely different. Opulent, detailed, a luxury in materials, pattern, and handiwork. It fit like a gown, mostly iridescent black, rippling with a bluish sheen, but the detailed cutwork into the upper section showed the backing of coral leather beneath it. It was split in the front, edged with the pearl trim she'd purchased on Manaan, a bright flash of coral under panel showing. The hood was deep, obscuring, and precisely weighted to stay in place. 

“Do I deserve to keep breathing, milord?” 

“Depends.” She only half joked, admiring the perfection of detailing and trim on the chest, swinging to make certain that the weight did not affect her range of movement, wrap around her legs. It most certainly did not hinder anything and she gave a sharp, approving nod. 

“Ah, of course. Your consort. Here.” He moved to open the other box, and pulled out a swath of the same black leather, starkly plain. “Fewer expectations with this one. Much more practical.” He shrugged, helping Carth into the long coat. “But still prized. Which is believe was what we going for?” 

“Yes.” Carth looked dubious, but he was a man who'd lived most of his adult life in some form of uniform or another. To yank him out of his comfort zone and toss him into a hand tailored shark leather coat was bound to cause him a moment's pause. Or a whole hour's worth of pauses, judging by his expression. 

“Ah, good. You can hide a multitude of guns in it, and other things.” 

“I look like a Hutt crime lord's enforcer.” Carth muttered, the thinnest edge of mutiny clinging to the syllables as he fiddled with the wide collar. “Or a pro gambler.” 

“Or a Dark Lord's consort.” He needed to wrap his mind around this, and he needed to do it now. It wasn't like she was asking him to do this alone, he looked downright normal compared to what she was wearing. Anyway, he looked damn good in it...good enough to eat. “Thank you, Sarl. I do not forget.” 

The tailor bowed gracefully. “Of course you do not, milord. Welcome back.” He gave her one last look, measuring his work, and then turned those eyes onto Carth. He nodded slowly, content with what he saw, and left quickly. Sarah waited for him to be well gone before she turned back to Carth, who was staring at himself in the mirror. 

“Looks good. Really damned good.” She breathed, smoothing down the grain of the leather along his forearm. “Trust me on this one.” It had been awhile since he'd been well enough to even consider trying to entice him, but he was fit and rested now. How many more times like this would they have? Alone? Able to take a moment? 

“Not nearly as damned good as you look in that. I thought Jedi, hell, even Sith, went for the minimalistic thing. You stick out like a sore thumb.” 

I know. But it's right. I don't know why, but it is. 

“So I do. So I do. So do you.” He reached up, pushing the hood back and stared into her eyes. If what he found there put him off, he made no sign of it, cupping her face in his hands. 

You know who I am now. What I am, now. Are you still willing...? His lips were warm against hers, his fingers working the sloppy knot she'd pulled her hair back into this morning. I still love you. 

He buried his face in the fall of her hair, his lips against the pulse in her neck, his palm against her cheek. “I have no idea how to get you out of this.” He finally chuckled. “But I guess if I'm to be your...um, slave...I better figure it out.” 

“Yes, you'd better.” 

It took him no time at all to discover the hooks hidden in the front detailing. “Ah, convenient access. I like it. Or are you supposed to wear something underneath it all?” His touch on her breasts was distracting as hell, his lips nibbling across her bare belly as knelt before her, sliding the robes down the swell of her buttocks and letting them fall to the floor. 

“It's my slave's duty to lay out my clothes in the morning. Therefore I will be wearing, or not wearing, whatever he chooses.” 

“Niiiiiice.” He breathed, sliding his hands down her ribcage, sweeping down to that part he admittedly loved so much. Well, it was a good thing he was an ass man, because she had a decent one of those. His tongue delved into her navel, then slid lower, and she grabbed at his hair. He planted his shoulder into her hips, and picked her up, heading straight for the rumpled bed. The ease with which he accomplished that feat completely banished any reservations she had as to his capacity to see this through. He was well. 

He dropped her gently in the nest of faded green sheets, stripping as quickly as he could get himself out of his clothes. But then, he just stood there, staring...like he was trying to engrave the moment on his brain. Or he was having second thoughts, or trying to have second thoughts while his body betrayed him. 

“Carth?” He was aroused, she knew it. She could sense it, and she could see it. He was doing nothing to hide either from her. 

“Just admiring the view.” He chuckled softly. “You're beautiful, you know.” 

Well, if he wanted to admire the view, she'd give him something to admire...while she admired him. She leaned back into the sheets, letting her knees fall open while she cupped her breasts in her hands. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, his breath hissing audibly between them. He placed his hands on her knees before running his fingertips down her inner thighs, pausing, teasing, just before things got truly interesting. But Sarah was willing to let him take his own sweet time, there was no hurry and she loved luxuriating under his touch. 

He slid into the bed beside her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close, his erection butting into her thigh. She touched him, stroking slowly up, pushing him against her flesh. It was always a wonder how velvety soft his skin was, rolling over underlying hardness. And it was a wonder to watch his expression fade into utter stillness, entranced by her touch. She adored that look. She wanted him, wanted his hands on her, wanted him inside of her. Touch me. Taste me. 

He complied, nuzzling against her chest, closing a hand over hers, tightening his fingers, her fingers, against him. “Harder.” He whispered, rubbing his nose against her nipples. She arched into him, offering them up to him. First with his tongue, then with lips and teeth, he teased her, before growling and giving into a sudden sharp tugging suck. She could feel his fingers graze between her thighs, inside of her, pushing deeply within. 

Yes, I'm ready. 

He pulled them from her, locked eyes with her, and slowly licked his fingers clean. Yes, come on. You know you want to. And he did, opening her thighs with his knees, holding her ass in his hands, and settling deeply within her. She dug her short fingernails into his broad shoulders, chasing away the thought that she could hurt him by it. All she wanted to do was just let it happen, to tighten her thighs around his hips and wrap herself up with him inside of her. Mine. All mine. But then, wasn't she his? All his? It worked both ways. 

It was amazing, rising to meet each thrust, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, more.” She moaned, feeling him let go and start to push her towards climax. The world spun and she went limp beneath him, and a moment later he collapsed beside her, pulling her into a deep embrace. 

“Sarah.” 

And that was her name, forever...because of how he said it at that moment.


	60. Chapter 60

Another world that Carth had never, ever thought he'd see with his own eyes... Korriban, holy world of the Sith. He strode down the ramp of the shuttle, following the storm front that was Sarah. Revan. No... Augural. He had to keep that name foremost in his mind, to keep her safe. To keep himself safe. Bastila depended on them. The Republic depended on them. He stood silently, burdened by their bags, as she turned slowly, her eyes on the coral and cream colored canyon walls that surrounded her. Even he could feel it, the weight of the air, the weight of the world. He was being watched, measured, judged. 

The woman who stood before him was almost unrecognizable, clad in the full regalia that Sarl had crafted on Nar Shaddaa, her hair bound in a nearly outlandishly ornate style, her features sharpened by obvious make up and her overt slide to the dark side. She'd been growing that, feeding that, cultivating that on the journey from Nar Shaddaa, and now it felt like second nature. A part of her. Simply what she was, and Carth mourned his loss. All he could do was remain silent, supportive, and be there to pull her back when this was over. It was an almost foolish idea to think he could, but he did. She'd given him the tools to do it...

She paused, dropping to her knees and digging her fingers into the ruddy sand at the edge of the landing pad, letting it fall through the dry, warm air. He wondered where the truth ended and the act started, but then again, he dismissed that. It wasn't his job. All he was supposed to do was do exactly what she told him to do, when she told him to it, how she told him to accomplish it. And his last task was to carry the bags. So he waited patiently, ignoring the flow of the other passengers around him, ignoring their stares. That last one was nothing new, they'd done nothing but stare at Sarah since she'd gotten on the small passenger liner at Nar Shaddaa. Had she misjudged something vital? She certainly wasn't fitting in, rather just the opposite. 

She stood slowly, dusting her hands off and staring in the direction that the other passengers had gone in, towards the spaceport, and nodded briskly. “Let's go.” She stated, moving after them, the panels of her skirts snapping in the breeze, announcing her progress. 

The spaceport was, well, a spaceport. Carth had a lot of experience with them, except that the majority of people in this one wore one of the gray and black duty uniforms favored by the Sith. This was a ridiculous, ridiculous idea...

 

Sarah stood eying the press of people, then turned and completely bypassed the queues and inspections, striding towards the exit doors. And now the trouble starts... There were too many to take here, even if so many of them seemed to be teenagers and young adults. 

But no, there was no trouble. Nobody even attempted to intercept her, and she breezed through the echoing hall and out the other side, pausing again when she hit the sand, the air. When she stood on Korriban itself and not ferrocrete and tile. 

“Milord? Milord!” 

Sarah turned slowly, her attention focusing on a breathless, rattled young woman rushing to catch up to her. “Ah, milord!” She managed, sliding to a halt in front of the pair of them. “Welcome to Korriban! Master Uthar has sent me to guide you to the Academy, and to his office.” She pulled discretely at the edge of her uniform tunic and tried to maintain a professional expression...she looked just like a new ensign sent to escort an admiral, and Carth felt for her. He'd been there. “I am Tashi, one of the students...”

“Greetings.” Sarah's voice was pissy and sharply enunciated, it was her Revan voice, deep with the dark side and an added dash of Imperial precision. “Although I have no need of the Academy's services.” 

The young woman's face fell, but she put up a valiant fight to keep it even. That was not what she'd wanted to hear, or she was afraid of the fallout it would bring. She was just a kid, Mission's age or just a year or so older... wide blue eyes, pale brown hair. It was an abomination to see this in the uniform of what he considered to be his enemies. But of course the Sith taught their force aware children, just like the Jedi did. Sarah and Bastila had been sent to the Enclave at a much younger age than this one was. 

“Yes, milord, but Master Uthar governs Korriban, and you are on Korriban.” 

Sarah waited just long enough to unnerve the girl before nodding deeply. “So be it. Lead the way.” 

Somehow, Carth had expected that there would be...more...on Korriban, but it seemed to be a dusty backwater, empty and desolate. If it wasn't for the undercurrent of dark power he sensed, he would wonder just what all of the fuss was about. There wasn't even a proper road leading away from the tiny spaceport, just a lighter hued speeder path imprinted across the dust, but no sign of a speeder. Well, at least Sarah had done him the favor of traveling lightly, he swung the larger bag over his shoulder, tightened his grip on the smaller one, and fell into step behind them. 

The young woman remained quiet, her attention locked on Sarah. And Sarah was silent, pensive, apparently more interested in the canyon's geological features, in the fall of dust on her forearm, in the sunbeams falling on her fingers, than she was with the girl. She felt like a tourist. A very intent tourist, but a tourist nonetheless. 

There was a bit of a climb, a switch back in the path, and then it all opened up in front of Carth. He stood silently, stunned, trying to drink it all in. It was...incredible. He'd been expecting horrible, he got ancient majesty. A huge stone pyramid rose from the dust in front of him, and beyond that, a razor deep valley guarded by immense stone colossi, humanoid figures with heads bowed low.

“The Valley of the Sleeping Kings.” Sarah breathed, and the young woman looked confused, her questioning gaze going to Carth as if he was going to be any help at all. He shrugged slightly in answer, shaking his head.

“The Valley of the Dark Lords, milord.” She finally gained the nerve to try to correct Sarah, who merely snorted in answer. 

“If that's what you wish to call it.” She finally stated and the girl blanched, again looking to Carth for support. And again, he had none to give her. She was the apprentice...trying to deal with the off step Sith Lord. He was just the bag carrier, and he was very happy that was the case. “And the slave has no answers for you, girl.”

“Of course not, milord. This way.” 

She headed for the pyramid, and the groups of gray and black uniformed teenagers in the courtyard before it parted before her, their eyes hungrily on Sarah. Why? What the hell was he missing? What the... 

A form in the crowd caught his attention and it was as if the world vanished, pulled away from around him. No. It couldn't be. It was just his eyes playing tricks on him. He'd done this a lot, in the beginning, when he'd see them in every crowd, every group of people, but he'd been doing much better lately. 

Sarah had been striding along, he'd been paying half hearted attention to the languid sway of her skirts, and the rest had been on the crowd, watching for a gun, an attack, anything... but her stride took a sudden hitch and she froze in step. He felt her focus on him, felt her rush into his mind in a sudden push to understand what had just stunned him into breathlessness. 

Dustil. That is Dustil. My son. He is here. He is alive. He wanted to scream to the skies. To snatch him up and never let him go. He couldn't breathe. It couldn't be. The young man just happened to look like Dustil. That was it. That was all. Sarah was going to see right through it, lead him out of this... right? And she did, indeed, snatching him by his collar and yanking him forward. He staggered, fighting to keep his balance, and when he looked up again, the young man was gone. “My apologies, milord.” He forced the syllables out and she took a half step away from him, her head tilted measuringly. 

“Indeed.” She replied drily, turning her back dismissively on him and staring up at the stone edifice rising above her head. The young woman gave him a look that came perilously close to pity and he fought against the urge to lock his teeth, instead locking his gaze on the edge of Sarah's dusty skirts. 

It's all just a game. Just an act. She loves me. 

They passed into the pyramid, into a cool, dim, breathlessly muted corridor leading into its heart. It felt...protective. Safe. What in the hell was wrong with him? He was losing it. He couldn't, here was the last place he was allowed to fall apart in. Was that it? Was this temple playing with his mind? Showing him the things guaranteed to reduce him to a sobbing puddle? Was Morgana next? In spite of himself, he glanced around. Again, teenagers, watching...and he couldn't help but look for a bright reddish blonde head amongst them. He'd known Morgana at this age, his mind would be quite able to form an apparition of her...

“No.” He'd had Bastila in his head before, but Sarah's voice was stronger, purer, clearer. “You saw what you saw. The young man with the dark hair, he is bound to you by blood. He is your son?”

“Yes. That is Dustil.” It was real? 

“Hmmmmm. Later, when we can speak openly. There is too much risk with this...” 

Dustil was alive. Dustil was here. Dustil was alive. Dustil was here. He couldn't believe it. It was amazing, wonderful. But how? And how had he ended up here? He had to have been picked up by the Sith before Carth's task force had arrived in a hopeless attempt to defend Telos... he certainly hadn't been picked up by them afterward. He'd been with them for four years now, he'd grown from a twelve year old child to a teenager on the edge of manhood. I will not leave him behind. 

“Of course not. He leaves with us, even if I have to tear the Academy down to its foundation stones, bathe them with the blood of its defenders, and hogtie him from his chin to his toes for easy handling and we'll carry him out of here.”

And there was the Sarah he loved so much. 

They were shown to a severely clean office, he stood behind Sarah while she took a regal seat in the only chair on the door side of the empty black desk. His mind was racing, unable to hold a thought beyond the one that just kept spinning, running around in his head. Dustil. Alive. Dustil was alive. He'd found him. 

Her touch on the fingers he'd rested on the back of her chair was fleeting, a whisper, but it helped bring him back down to himself. He couldn't lose sight of what they were doing here, he couldn't get sloppy. That did nobody any good. He wished he could speak openly to her, but he couldn't. 

The door opened and a man walked in. Carth's first disturbed thought was that it was Malak, that they'd been discovered, but he dismissed it immediately. No, not Malak, just a man who had a lot of visual similarities to the reigning Dark Lord, either by accident, or more likely, by design. He was smaller than Malak, much less imposing, shorter than Carth and about his current build. He was still in possession of all of his face, but he had the same washed pale complexion, the same bald head, but with more tattoos...possibly the only point he could out do Malak on. 

“My...lord?” He sounded faintly dubious. “I am Master Uthar, and I run operations here on Korriban.”

“Darth Augural.” If it was possible, she sounded pissier than he'd ever heard her manage. “You wished to see me.” And she made it very obvious that that desire went only one way. 

The man stared for a long moment, taking the seat behind the desk. “You're not supposed to be here. But you are here. Without an apprentice?” His gaze did not move towards Carth and Carth did nothing to draw attention to himself. 

“My last one suffered an unfortunate incident.” Sarah responded blandly. “I am currently without one. As for why I am here, the answer should be obvious. I will see Korriban before I die. I will feel it. Know it. Taste it. And breathe it in.” And nobody will stand in my way. 

“Ah, I see.” And it was obvious that he did not entirely appreciate it. “I hope you were...subtle.” 

“I was. I am not here to interfere in your operations, Overseer.” Well, that had been the plan, but Carth knew things had just changed. Dustil is here. Dustil is alive. That part of him still breathed. That part of Morgana still breathed. He was still a father. 

“But you will accept our hospitality, milord. One such as yourself should not be staying at the Dreshdae spaceport squats, when we have fine rooms here at your disposal.” 

All the better to keep an eye on them. Carth didn't need to be any sort of a force user to figure that one out. Hold your friends close, your enemies closer, and strange Sith Lords the closest. “That would be acceptable.” Sarah answered, balancing her foot on her knee. 

“Perhaps you'd also like to take a look at our older apprentices in the morning? One might be suitable to replace that one you unfortunately lost...”

Dustil. 

“I would take a look at them, yes. In the morning. Now, as to those fine rooms?” 

The man smiled, or at least his face contorted, because that was the least welcoming 'smile' that Carth had ever seen in his life. “Of course. Tashi will see you to them, unless you'd prefer one of the male apprentices show you the way?” 

It took every ounce of self control to remain expressionless when the meaning in that question filtered through his brain. Surely the man did not mean what it seemed like the man meant? 

“No, thank you. I brought my own.” She gestured up and over her shoulder with her thumb, unerringly towards Carth. “The girl will do just fine to show me the way.” 

“As you wish, milord. Tomorrow, early?” 

She stood and nodded. “Tomorrow. Early. And I will see your older apprentices. Come.” The last was aimed at Carth, who picked up the bags and followed her out. The young woman was waiting for them and she led the way back through the main antechamber, Carth's eyes still locked on the sway of Sarah's stride. All he wanted to do was look. To see Dustil again, but he couldn't. He shouldn't. He knew he was being watched and wondered if any of those eyes on him were his son's. I want out of here. He couldn't hold up much longer. 

Up a broad flight of stairs, then another, the corridor shrinking, the tile changing to carpet. He finally dared to raise his eyes, to focus on Sarah's back. There was no one else in this hallway, and he was safe. And he was even safer when the girl opened the final door in the hallway and ushered the pair of them into a room beyond it. “Thank you.” Sarah stated, gripping the door handles and closing the door immediately, leaving the girl just on the other side of it. Sarah gave Carth a sudden, intent look, pressing a finger against her lips and he nodded, dropping the bags and settling into the closest chair. Now he could let his expression crack. Now he could shake. Now he could bury his face in his hands and hyperventilate, listening to the pounding of his heart in his chest. He could hear Sarah moving, muttering, rummaging, but it was so far away. 

“It's clear.” She finally stated, kneeling in front of him. “Carth.” 

“That was my son.” He wasn't going to scream, he wasn't going to cry. All he could do was reach out, holding her shoulders in his hands. “Sarah, that was Dustil. You saw him.” 

“I didn't. But Carth, I wouldn't recognize him...I've never seen him before. I felt him, though. He is a part of you, in more than one way. And I can tell you, your child is here. If you only have one, then Dustil is here. But I do not know what he looks like.” 

“I don't have any images with me.” No pictures, those were all in his quarters on Brentaal and on the datapad which had gone down over Taris. “He's...well, he looks a lot like me. Only with dark hair.” Truthfully, Dustil had always resembled Carth's father, but that information would mean nothing to Sarah. “But you can sense him?” 

“Yes. I can sense him. And we'll get him off of Korriban with us, trust me, whether he wants to go or not. And there's a good chance that will be a not, Carth. But if the Overseer offers me up a passel of apprentices, and he is one of them, there you go. And if not, I stamp my foot on the ground and demand him as one anyway.” She rested her forehead against his knee. “Carth, this is a good thing.”

“Of course it is.” And she was right. But he'd be damned if he was going to leave Dustil here, not if he had any choice at all. That would kill him. He couldn't lose a member of his family again...Dustil, Sarah, no. It wasn't going to happen, he'd die first. 

“Good. We just have to wait.” She stood up, extending her hands to help him up as well. He accepted her aid, wrapping his arms around her when she rested her face against his chest. Everything was going to be fine. She'd told him so, and he believed her.


	61. Chapter 61

He woke up, Sarah wrapped all around him, and he squinted uncertainly at his surroundings. Where was he? There was no doubt he was in a much nicer place than usual, they were swathed in silken sheets, in a perfect bed. The room was cool, silent, clean and starkly well appointed. 

Korriban.

Dustil. 

He stroked her hand, the one adorned with his ring, that she had resting across his stomach. Her face was buried between his shoulder blades, her knees tucked in behind his. He'd love to stay exactly where he was, exactly as he was... but he had work to do. He slid out of her arms, tucking the covers in where he had been and dressed. He brushed the powdery dust off of her robes, laid out her under clothes and toiletries and moved to the door. He'd been expecting to find someone waiting outside, someone who would point him in the right direction to find her a light breakfast, even just a pot of caf to get her going, but he hadn't been expecting to find Dustil. 

Say something. Anything. But he couldn't. All he could do was just stand there and stare. Dustil looked so good. Older. Taller. Almost a man. All of the things he'd been hinting at the last time Carth had seen him had come to pass. You look like my father. And that brought a depth of mourning that Carth hadn't been expecting. He only wished he had more of a history with this young man, more to work on. But he'd been away so often, leaving Morgana to handle the things he couldn't...so busy with his duty, his calling. Telling himself he was needed on the front lines, that only he was good enough to do the job. And Telos had come so close to falling during the War, just one step farther out... Dustil had been a child. And the Mandos took children, adopted them. Carth had lived in terror of losing him, and that, along with his absences, had been why they'd only had one instead of the handful that he and Morgana had planned for, hoped for. It had always been...when it was over. And then it had been well and truly over. 

“Well, well, well.” Dustil drawled. “I couldn't believe it yesterday, but I see it's the truth. Ironic, I guess. Both of us captured by Sith. Hello, Father.” 

“Dustil.” He'd dreamed of this, prayed for it. And now that it was actually here, he didn't have any words for it. “I thought you were dead.” 

“And I hoped you were.” 

So that was how this was going to go. “If that's so, why are you out here waiting?” He wasn't in the mood to play this game. He'd done his best. By now, Dustil should be getting old enough to understand that. He could be angry, he could be resentful. He was obviously going to strike out, but Carth wasn't going to rise to the bait. It would just make things worse. 

“Is that really a true Sith Lord?” 

“Yes, and she gets really cranky without her caf.” Carth snapped. Dustil frowned, reached out, and pulled down on the neckline of Carth's shirt, exposing the uppermost reaches of the burn marks. 

“I...see. Father...”

“Just show me where I can get her caf. And preferably breakfast as well.” So Dustil wasn't up here to see him, but was attracted to Sarah. Or it was both, and was using Sarah as the stated reason for his attention. It didn't matter. He was here, close enough to reach out and touch. Alive, solid and real. They could still fix this. 

“This way.” 

Dustil led the way down a back set of stairs, silent, but Carth could feel the weight of a thousand unasked questions hanging in the cool air. How had Carth, a veteran, a hero of the Republic, fallen into a Sith Lord's service? When? You wouldn't believe it even if I told you, kiddo. He'd been through it himself and hardly believed it. 

 

The stair case ended in the back of a large kitchen, harried people scurrying around preparing food, but they were quick to point him at a table laden with offerings. He collected a large amount of food and a carafe of caf, mixing it as he knew she preferred it. 

“You remember the way back?” Dustil demanded, and Carth merely nodded. Now was not the time. Here was not the place. He just had to have faith in Sarah and what she'd told him. They were going to bring Dustil out of here, one way or the other. 

“I remember.” Go do what you need to do, my son. Go get ready to impress a Sith Lord. It would just make it all that much easier for them all if he did. He carefully balanced the tray and retraced his steps, forcing himself to turn his back on Dustil...to keep playing his part. 

Sarah was awake when he let himself back into the suite, sitting up in bed. “Morning, babe.” He greeted, filling a cup with creamy caf and handing it to her. 

“You feel...thoughtful.” She stated, taking a long swallow and sighing in bliss, before she crawled out of bed, naked as the day she'd been born. Although it was usual, he still looked. He appreciated her acceptance of him, she'd never been awkward, never been modest...but she also didn't use it against him. She slept in the nude, he slept in the nude, it was their normal, and it was comfortable. He knew her eyes occasionally lingered on him, and his eyes occasionally lingered on her. She was beautiful and he'd have to be dead to not appreciate it when she shared with him. 

“Spoke to Dustil.” He sighed, gazing at the tray. He was starving, all he'd done since escaping the Leviathan was eat. And sleep. And eat. And eat. It was like he was a teenager again, shooting up towards his final height. 

“You're still recovering.” She stated, shifting half of the food onto another plate and handing it to him. “You lost quite a bit of weight. No crime in putting it back on. So, that is Dustil...confirmed?” 

“Confirmed.” That was most certainly Dustil. No doubts. He tore into the food, watching her as she took the other plate. She wasn't as voracious, but she ate with a focused intensity, picking and choosing carefully. “What?”

“I'll probably have to strut my stuff today. I don't want to be too weighed down for that. The Overseer will want to knock heads against me, one to make sure I'm what I say I am and two to see if he has a chance in hell of taking me down. I am what I say I am, and no, he has no chance. But we'll both still play the game. It'll clear any doubts and put him in his place. We'll call it training, but we both know better.”

“You sure you're going to be okay if that happens?” She sounded so majestically confident, but he wasn't as certain. This man was the Overseer, the Master, of the Sith Academy on Korriban...

“Absolutely. It's a fine day to rub some noses into Korriban's dirt and get myself a shiny new apprentice.” She grinned widely at him, but the smile didn't travel to her eyes. “Win, win, my dear. Win, win.” 

Yes, win win. He'd go along with almost anything that got Dustil out of here. 

She dressed, did her hair and her makeup...glaring at herself in the mirror before she stuck her tongue out at the reflective surface. “You know.” He began slowly and she met his eyes in her reflection and grinned at him.

“I know I look like a demented doll?” 

“Yes, that. Exactly.” 

“And I look nothing like Revan.” She stood, shaking out her skirts. “No iconic mask. No iconic robes. Right now, there are only a handful of people who could recognize me, and you're the only one on Korriban. And I'll have to do my best to scrub the memory of this clean out of your mind, when we're done here.” 

“Ha.” He replied, carefully stacking the breakfast dishes on their tray. “You'd need Jedi mind tricks to get rid of this picture from my brain. I'll still be bringing it up years from now.” 

“Bastard.” 

“Yes, milord.” He gave her a slight bow, picked up the tray and stepped back out into the hallway. It was empty this time, no anxious student waited for him. He'd been hoping for Dustil, because even his anger was a wonder to experience. Dustil had to be alive to be angry. 

He left the dishes in the kitchen and took the steps two at a time back to the suite. Sarah stood just outside of the door, completely dressed and ready to go and he fell into step behind her when she started walking. 

Although dawn was just breaking, visible through the recessed skylights of the main chamber, the expanse was filled with people...a large number of them close to Dustil's age, but more than a few adults had gathered. If Sarah was put off by her audience, she certainly didn't show it, striding gracefully down the stairs, her head held high. 

“Good morning, Overseer.” She stated calmly while Carth dared to look at the crowd. There he was. Dustil stood front and center, his dark gaze locked on Sarah. What the hell? That look was awfully close to the stares that Carth knew he gave her, eager, intent, like he'd been waiting for her for years... 

“Good morning, Darth Augural. I trust your rooms were to your liking?”

“They were suitable.” The dawn light painted her, her eyes gleamed, exposed from the depths of her hood. “I assume you want to play this morning?”

His expression closed slightly, he'd been expecting her to wait for him to bring it up, and she'd just stolen his thunder. “It would be advantageous for the students to see a Sith Lord in a little friendly saber play. To see a new style, how someone they're not familiar with fights...” 

“Of course, let's get this over with.” 

“Milord?” He had the common sense to be a little less than thrilled about the idea of a Sith Lord 'getting it over with' with him. 

“I understand what you want, Overseer.” Carth had seen her fight enough times, felt her so well, that he noted the moment she palmed the offhanded lightsaber into the hand held behind her back. “And while it is interfering with my pilgrimage, the very reason I have come to Korriban, I will indulge you. For now. And I will look at your students, and if any of them are right for me, I will take a new apprentice. And then you will leave me alone.” 

“Yes, milord. Of course, milord. Thank you.” 

He moved away from her, into the open area of the main chamber, surrounded by his students. That was the moment she palmed her main hand lightsaber, her hand obscured in the panels of her robes. She waited for him to make the center of the chamber before she began to stalk towards him. The chamber was hushed, a hundred pairs of greedy eyes following her progress. 

Carth had seen her fight. Carth had seen her fight for real, when her life, his life, the lives of those she cared for, hung in the balance. Then, every move was concise, rationed, dedicated to the cause of killing her enemies before they killed her. It could almost be a disappointment to watch, brutal in its short intensity. 

She announced her approach by igniting the off hand, still held behind her back... it sprang into a lurid crimson glow, playing off of the sheen of her leather robes. She followed it a moment later with her main hand, its colors bleeding into the dawn light, and then she attacked in a wild flurry of motion. It was obvious that her speed and determination had put the Overseer off balance immediately, and she kept him there, feinting, whirling, driving him along. It was a glory to watch her dominate, to watch her shine, and she did it with a flourish. 

And beyond, Dustil just stared, his gaze level and measuring, while his companions watched with open mouths and wide eyes. It was a look that Carth was unfamiliar with on his child's face, but he'd seen it on the faces of others, usually men stepping off of his ship, resigned to their deaths. What was he missing? What didn't he see? He didn't sense any real concern from Sarah, she was merrily showing off for all the Academy to see, and she felt fine. Better than fine, gloriously content...just as he felt when he was finally allowed to use his piloting gifts to their utmost. She was beautiful, amazing, and she knew it. And she'd done exactly what she was intending to do, she'd forced the Overseer into an almost completely defensive fight, he was struggling to hold her off, grimly focused, outclassed and doing his best to not let it show. 

She vaulted backwards, landing with an exorbitant grace well out of his striking range, bowing slightly to end the fight before she turned her head to stare at Dustil. “Thank you for the morning dance, Overseer. And I'll take that one right there.” 

Carth expected...something. Something more. The other students seemed shocked, murmuring and uncertain, but the Overseer did not seem at all surprised by her sudden choice, or by the blunt way she expressed it. 

“Of course, milord. He is yours.”


	62. Chapter 62

“Milord. I am...” Sarah stared out of the balcony adjacent to her suite, out over the Valley. The fragment was there. She could feel it. It, and so much more. 

“Dustil Onasi.” She stated with a smile, knowing he could not see it. It had been about as easy as she'd expected... there was no reason for Uthar to question her choice, she was the Lord, she'd dominated him in combat, and she got what she wanted, when she wanted it. That was the way of things. She half turned, measuring Dustil. There was a lot of his father in his face, the resemblance between what she saw in front of her, and what she'd seen on the very young image in Carth's Czerka file was undeniable. And equally undeniable, the flow of the Force through him...deep, strong, singing and pure. There was no way they were keeping this here. It was a waste, even if he was not Carth's son. This had sooooo much potential. 

“Well, that as well. But I am honored.” 

You've finally come for me. 

What was that? It had been the thread of a thought, almost familiar. Almost Carth, but he was in the far corner, drinking in the sight of his child. His thoughts were pounding in her head, relief, amazement, joy, all open to her scrutiny. The thought had been wrapped snugly, an attempt to hide it. All of Dustil was an attempt to hide...it. All. He'd been waiting. He'd been waiting for her? She closed the distance, slowly, reaching out to rest her fingertips on his cheeks. 

This will end when she comes for me. She's promised me. She's here. She's with my father. They've come. They've finally come.

“Yes. Gather your things and bring them back here. You're no longer a student here.” 

“Yes...master.” He bowed deeply, backing a few steps away before he turned his back on her to leave. They'd taught him well. She wasn't certain what was going on, yet, but it didn't matter. Leaving him here was completely out of the question. It would be like leaving Mission behind on Taris...just because Korriban wasn't under orbital bombardment at the moment didn't make it a good place for someone who was supposed to be part of her family. 

“Thank you.” Carth had come up behind her, far enough in the gloom to where he was not visible to those who might be watching her, but as close as he could get. 

What a hilarious and sad statement. He was the last one who should be thanking her for anything at all. He'd been her rock up until this point, and was still holding pretty fast under this new pressure that fate had thrown at him. “Don't thank me yet. We're not out of here.” 

“I know that.” He wrapped his arms around her when she finally gave in and left the balcony, retreating into the dim cool of her rooms. “But he's alive, Sarah. He's right there. Had we not come here, I would have never found him.” 

And that was an undeniable truth. “I know. But Carth...we still need to hold on to what we're doing here. I will do my damnedest to get him out of here, breathing and in one piece, but I do not trust him. He's been here a good amount of time, they've had time to mess with him. He doesn't need to know what we're up to until we get him out of here.” There was a good chance that Dustil had a makeshift brig, guarded by a veteran Mandalorian, in his near future. But they'd deal with that later. 

He sighed, resting his forehead against her shoulder. “I know. I know. And I'll keep it up as long as I have to.” 

Not much further. It wasn't going to be easy for him to play cowed slave to her, under his son's eyes, she understood that. But it was going to have to be part of the deal. They had too much riding on this. 

“You know where the fragment is?” He asked, releasing her and stepping away. “You sense it? Remember it?” 

“It's there. I feel it.” Off to the left, deep within the Valley. The final fragment. The final piece to the puzzle. But it wasn't as if finding it meant it was all over, no, it simply meant it was beginning. Finding the Star Forge was only the first step. After that, they had to figure out what to do about it. 

“We'll look back on this and have a drink...” 

Perhaps. Perhaps not. She wished she could incite a little more optimism in her own soul, but it didn't want to show itself. It felt like she was hemmed in... Of course it did. She was on Korriban. Too many things, both palpable and ephemeral, were out there, just on the edges of her perception. They lurked there, just shadows in her mind. Faint memories of something she had been once, held against her will, twisted into a mockery of herself. Never again. I see you now. I know I can fall, but I will not do it again. That would work, if this all didn't feel so damned right. It was like she was finally able to be... no. That had been part of it. She saw it now. There was a very thin line between protector and owner. She'd stepped over that line with Alek...Malak...and she wouldn't do it with Carth. Or Dustil. 

“Good. I'd like to get off of Korriban as soon as possible.” 

Of course he did. It was sane, and now, even saner. He had two people he loved and wanted to take care of. The sooner all three of them were off of Korriban, the better. She knew it, but there was still a haunting draw to this place. If she was alone, this would be a wonderful place to simply vanish into. 

Korriban is a place of learning, reflection...insight.

Korriban was a wellspring of the dark side, not something she should seek insight from. 

If you do not accept your past failings, you will repeat them. 

She couldn't do that again. If she did, she doubted if she'd get another chance like this one, a slate wiped clean. A man willing to stand behind her to give her a hand up out of the darkness. This was her last opportunity to hold onto being a person that wasn't a monster. 

You cannot turn your back on what you will learn about yourself here. What you will learn about Carth here. The final bonds you will need to confront Malak will be sewn down, here. 

Final bonds? Dustil returned as if the thought itself had summoned him and she weighed him through an unyielding stare. It was insanity to believe that he could hold Bastila's place through this...his 'apprentice status' was just a ruse, a ploy to get him out of here...right? 

You are not in a position to waste your resources. You have taken responsibility for him...you have claimed mastery of him. Do not lie. 

Take Dustil to the Valley of the Sleeping Kings, to Naga Sadow's tomb, as her apprentice? Take him on to the Star Forge as the same? It was insanity. She hadn't taken Bastila with her to War, and she'd had years of training and work with her. 

And maybe that was a fatal mistake. You always held yourself to a higher standard when you had her with you. Always lived, ate and breathed being her master. Alek was your co-conspirator in everything, your contemporary, your friend, your lover, but Bastila was what you tried to rise to be exemplary for. She was a responsibility, an honor, one you deliberately slipped away from when you went off to War. Everything here has been another chance. Another life, to replace the one you'd made. Another man, to replace the one you'd broken. And now, another young one to be responsible for; another set of unblinking eyes that learns from you. And now, this one is tied by blood to your man... the Force can be inexorable. 

“My belongings...master. Or should I say, your belongings?” Dustil laid his duffel in front of her and backed away, watching her with a mixture of fear and amazed wonder. He did a good job of trying to hide it, but it was still there, under the surface. 

She brushed off the statement with a flick of her fingertips. She'd go through them later, to make certain he didn't have something he shouldn't have...both deliberately and clandestinely. She didn't put it past Uthar to have added some things to his possessions. She didn't put it past Uthar to have done a whole lot of things, none of them good. He was simply mid-level management and bringing her down would be a bright point in his career...and he didn't even know the half of it. 

“Milord, your plans?” Ah, Dustil. She could sense his urge to bite down his father and rise in her eyes. How very, very Sithy, but nothing she would tolerate for long. She was not in the mood to listen to him try to pick his father apart...after all, his father was her chosen consort. He was simply her apprentice.

“We go into the Valley. I assume you have a lightsaber?” 

He swallowed deeply...the faintest trace of a frown carving its way between his thick brows when she stuck her hand out imperiously in his direction. He finally relinquished it, dropping it into the palm of her hand and she turned it over, scrutinizing it, sensing it. Following the bonds of its creation to Dustil, and finding them lacking. It was not his, it was even less his than the one she'd created on Dantooine. That crystal had at least called to her...this was strictly functional, its artificially manufactured crystal a spiritual blank. She had more of a bond to the offhanded lightsaber she had taken off of an enemy's body...it seemed to have an easy going 'personality', at ease with a change of ownership... She pulled it again, regarding it thoughtfully. “Try this one.” She sighed, handing it over to Dustil. It would never be 'right', but there was a chance that it was not horribly 'wrong'. And the one he'd had was horribly wrong.

“That's yours, milord. I shouldn't.” He argued, taking it from her grip. It rested solidly across his palm, his fingers curling around it easily. 

“No, it's not.” Not in the way he meant. Yes, she could fight with it and make it look good, it was a solid weapon, but it would never be hers. “Took it out of the dead hand of the last Sith Lord who tried to better his position by killing me. The grip is too wide for me, anyway.” But not too large for his, he was as tall as his father was, and probably wasn't quite done growing yet. He had the same lanky, angular build that she'd seen in Carth's younger pictures, if it wasn't for his darker coloration, his heavier brows, he'd be a dead match to those images in the Czerka datapad. “And if you're coming into the Valley with us, I need you armed.” There were things in those shadows, things in those tombs... She hadn't recovered him just to lose him days later as a terentatek chew toy. If that happened, she'd have to carry Carth out of here. And yes, there were others here, in the Academy, who could still strike at him. After all, apprentice to a Sith Lord was a valuable position, and how better to rise to it than killing the one currently occupying it? “Try to use it on me, and you'll be picking up your hand.” 

“I understand, milord.” 

“And one other thing.” He raised dark brown eyes to stare her straight in the face, unflinching. “You are mine. He...” She jerked her chin at the stubbornly silent Carth, who was watching, weighing. “Is mine as well. You get lippy with him, and I'll give you scars to match his. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, milord.”


	63. Chapter 63

Korriban's single sun, Horuset, had begun its slide downwards when Sarah stood again on the ruddy dust of the Valley, the rock walls sheltering this holy ground. Tulak Hord. Ajunta Pall. Marka Ragnos. Naga Sadow. All great Dark Lords of the Sith, all interred in the Valley's red dirt. Once, she was going to have been one of those Dark Lords mouldering in this consecrated rock...but that was gone now. Taken away, or given up freely? She wasn't certain. Both? Neither? It was like an anchor point had been taken away from her...something she'd taken for granted was no more. 

You will rest beside your family, those who love you for you. Wherever that happens to end up being. 

“Milord? Would you like me to guide you?” Dustil had been cautiously silent since she'd promised him a nice stay in a torture cage if he went after his father, something which had not exactly been a truly empty threat. “Since this is your first visit to Korriban.” He ended slowly. 

“Of course.” What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. And it wasn't like she exactly remembered the times she'd been on Korriban before. Everything that she did recall was distant, removed...like she'd read it or seen a vid of it. She knew which tomb she wanted, both as a recollection, and as an undeniable pull. Naga Sadow's tomb. 

He nodded, leading the way, his father bringing up the rear. It was an oddly comforting feeling, standing between the two of them. A matched set. The very idea made her chuckle under her breath. She collected Onasi males like others collected rare pieces of art. But maybe, Onasi males were a rare art form...

They descended onto the shadowed floor, Dustil choosing to stay to the right even when Sarah's gut told her left was the way to go. But she had an end goal, one she had not shared with Dustil. And since they were here, why not see it all? Carth was awed, intrigued, and his fascination was contagious. This was, after all, a place he should have never seen in his life, and it was where he'd found his child again. It was a place she'd probably, hopefully, never see again in her life again. 

“Master?” Dustil's voice was hesitant, and she raised her eyes to the back of his head. “A question?” 

“Yes?” It was good that he wasn't too cowed to start. She wanted him respectful but willing to learn. If he was truly to be hers, he needed to be an asset, and to be that, he couldn't be stagnant and terrified. 

“Your lightsaber. I've never seen its like...the cadre haven't either. It has drawn a lot of attention.” A subtle warning, she appreciated it, but part of the trick here was to be openly flamboyant and secure in her ability to handle whatever might come from that attention seeking behavior. He'd learned a lot here, but still lacked so much. He needed a master. “Is it natural?”

“It is.” And it was hers, until this was all said and done. Not a trophy. And if it was to be a trophy, there was only person she knew who even came close to being worthy of prying it from her dead fingers...Malak. Not middle management, but the Dark Lord himself. “And Uthar covets it.” 

“He does.” 

“He's welcome to try. He will fail, but I won't deprive him of the opportunity.” She could feel Carth's full attention now that Dustil had spoken. He wanted to hear his son's voice, and so much more, but he remained stoically silent. “You.” She handed Carth her datapad, deliberately avoiding looking into his face. It was difficult enough feeling him fight to maintain his composure, to keep the charade up, without seeing it in his eyes. “Take images.” Of your son. 

“Yes, milord.” 

“The Tomb of Ajunta Pall.” Well, it was more of a mausoleum, since Pall had not chosen to be interred within the skin of Korriban itself, but Sarah studied it with a true pilgrim's intensity. “There are shyrack within its walls... but I am certain you are more than their equal, milord.” Dustil stated calmly, waiting expectantly, but she brushed the question away. There was playing at being a tourist, and then there was tomb diving. If she delved into every tomb in the Valley, they'd be here for months. And Bastila couldn't wait for months. 

The next was one she barely remembered, still under construction, and she bridled at the scene. It should be...abandoned. It was not. This is mine. Why...

“Darth Malak's tomb.” 

Never. I will tear the Star Forge down around his head, and there won't be any part of him large enough to bring back here. Just like he meant to do to me. Just like he thought he'd done to me. 

“How utterly fascinating.” She kept it as deliberately neutral as she could, and Dustil merely shrugged in answer. “It was meant to be Darth Revan's, but there was nothing left of her to bring here even if Malak had permitted it.” He stated, staring at the crew working the site. “We're not allowed there, and I doubt if you're much interested in it anyway. Nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to gain.”

Nothing to gain but yet another reason to kick some ass. Last time I only hacked half of your face off... Her mistake. She should have just killed him then, but she'd been soft. She'd let her feelings blind her, make her weak. She'd been a fool. But not this time. This time ended it, one way or the other. Neither one of them would fail or pull any punches, too much had happened between them now. What had once been there, love, respect, joy, devotion, was destroyed...irretrievable. Now that she had that part of herself back, she mourned the loss of Alek, but that didn't blur her determination to end Malak, once and for all. 

“Tulak Hord.” Now, this one had always been an interesting one, it called, it beckoned, and if Sarah had the liberty to answer...she would. But she did not. So much to know, to learn, to discover...

Bastila. 

Indeed. Bastila was holding on, trusting, waiting. Sarah needed to be the master that Bastila should have had all of these years. She shook her head, turning away from the temptation and stared across the Valley. There. It was hidden in the shadows, but it sent a double siren's call. The tomb. The fragment. There. 

“Naga Sadow.” She breathed, and Dustil froze in his tracks, his head tilted slightly towards her. 

“Is a dangerous place, milord. A student's final test here at the Academy...” But there was not a single note of warning in his words. 

“Fitting, then...because you are not staying here at the Academy. Carth, we're going in.” 

“As you will, milord.” He answered blandly, stowing the datapad safely away in one of his jacket's large pockets, and pulling his blasters. “Ladies first.” 

He's armed. He's been armed the whole time. What am I missing? I don't understand. He's been tortured, I see the marks. Recently, very recently, very badly. Has she broken him so much that she arms him after doing that to him without worry? How long has he been like this? 

Dustil's thoughts, opened to her gaze. He wasn't as angry at his father as he liked to put on. He was bitter and hurt but there was still concern there, good. Good. This was still salvageable. But it was time to delve into the Academy's playland... Naga Sadow had never been interred here. There was no true ancient Sith spirits clinging to this place. It was simply a testing ground now. Once, it must have been yet another (blerb?) facility, like all of the other map fragment sites had been, but that had been subverted millenia ago, when Naga Sadow had chosen it for his tomb. And then, when that had not happened, it had become a convenient place to cull apprentices in, relics returned to their usual positions for the next hopeful, intimidating animals imported in and kept fed just enough to lie in wait for that next apprentice.

Naga Sadow had been quite proud of his own visage, it was carved thirty meters high around the entrance to the tomb and Sarah stared up at it, given a grand view of his chin. Somehow, there was something there. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on, just right...

Carth cleared his throat loudly, and she was yanked back to reality. Dustil flinched, his glare focused on his father's face. Anger? Outrage? No. She tasted his response, that was fear. He was afraid she was going to strike out at Carth. Hurt him. Well, it might just be time to feed those questions in his mind a little more. 

“Thank you.” She stated, reaching out to touch the door. It opened, and a flow of cool, damp air cascaded around her, lifting the panels of her skirts in a sudden rattle. Her steps echoed on the stone floors as she stepped in, listening intently. Whispery noises came from the shadows, shyrack and something larger, freezing at the sound of the door. The shyrack were probably natural, they had a knack for getting in places just like this one. The larger beasts were not, and Sarah ran down the list of what they could be in her head. Well, she'd obviously survived this before, so it couldn't be too bad...

You remembered yourself then. You had Malak at your back. Two trained, experienced Jedi Knights, fresh off of the War. 

She pushed that thought away, it certainly didn't help even if it was true. She didn't remember, she didn't have Malak... she had Carth and she had Dustil. And she would just have to make do with what she had, the same as always. 

“I sense...shyrack, wraid and...” And it was the and... that bothered her deeply. She knew this creature, she'd run into them before, and the idea of bringing Dustil here suddenly became a deeper concern. Carth was only faintly force aware, it was spitting and sporadic in him, and usually only displayed itself when he flew. Right now it was slumbering. He would be no more attractive to a tarentatek than any other eighty five kilo hunk of moving fresh meat. But she and Dustil would be irresistible. “Tarentatek.” 

Dustil palmed the lightsaber she'd given him, a line forming between his thick brows, doubt rising in his soul. He couldn't leave...even if she let him go, the Academy would cull him for desertion. But it would be most likely that a Sith Lord would just use her very new apprentice as bait in this circumstance. 

“I think it's time you and I...and your father...had a talk, Dustil.” It was earlier than she'd been expecting, but she needed him on board fully for this. There was too much of a chance for him to decide to use her as bait first... and then claim the prize of her death...her lightsaber...afterward. 

“Yes, master.” He sighed, but sat when she waved for him to sit on a block of stone. She sat as well, and after a slightly awkward moment, Carth sat on the same one that she had, serving as both a back support and eyes in the back of her head. 

“I am not the one who hurt your father. That was another Sith...trying to harm me through him.” And that was exactly how much he needed to know...and no more. “I have never failed to treat him with respect. And I will never fail to treat you with respect.” He gazed back at her dubiously, uncertain. 

“Dad?” He finally asked, and used the word that Sarah knew Carth had been dying to hear. 

“She's telling the truth, Dustil. Whatever she needs from you...you need to give it to her. For all of our sakes.” Well, that was one way to make it sound very, very dire, hardly what she was aiming for. “She did not hurt me.” 

“Okay.” Dustil sounded much younger, more uncertain, and Carth pulled his support out from behind her and stood slowly, moving towards Dustil as he would an injured or wild animal. Every step was filled with caution, care. “I just want out of here.” Dustil whispered, before Carth embraced him. “I just want out of here, Dad. The dreams told me you'd come for me. That she would come for me. I just had to hold on long enough for you both to get here. To be just good enough to live, but not good enough to get too much attention. I don't want to do it anymore, I've watched too many friends die here. I'm next. I just know it.” 

“Hey.” Carth pulled him close, wrapping his arms tighter around him. “We're getting you out of here. I swear, Dustil. I will not leave you here. We won't.” 

“You are my apprentice. That is a task I take seriously.” 

But not seriously enough to have not gotten your last one killed... He all but spoke it aloud and she sighed, standing to move closer to the pair of them. “I have not gotten my last one killed. She's still alive.” Yes, she was the presence in Sarah's mind...held close, held dear. “And part of why I'm here is to get her back. Free.” 

“You have another? But...” She cut off Dustil's sudden protest with a sharp motion of her hand. 

“She is to the point where, when I free her...she will be mine no longer. She has proven her worthiness to stand alone. And I will see it done. But what I need from you is for you to stand with us. Me and your father. We need you.” 

“But.” 

“But nothing. Whatever issues you have with your father will have to wait. They mean nothing right now. What I need to know is are you going to stand behind me when we hit those tarentatek? If not...I need you to leave. Return to the Academy, my rooms and stay silent.” 

“I...stand with you, master. Of course I do. Do not send me back to the Academy. But now I don't understand why you're here. At this tomb. Surely you know that there's nothing here. Just the items students are sent in for to complete their trials. That and the map.” 

Of course the map had not remained hidden if they were running students through here. Hopefully it was still intact, hopefully no stupid student had tried to dismantle it as a prize to prove their worth. What would they do if it wasn't readable? Run? Take Carth back to Coruscant and the Admiralty there? He'd just die against Malak's fleet, on another bridge just like the Endar Spire's. Try to seek refuge with the Mandalorians? How long would they last? She, herself, had played a part in crippling them at Malachor. They weren't ready to take on Malak, if they even wanted to. No, they still needed to try to get this done. 

“And the map.” She repeated calmly, watching the play of expressions visible across the face of her new apprentice. Or was he a padawan? Did it matter? He was Carth's son...which made him hers. It was worth it to see that look on Carth's face, to know she'd helped give him something back, some sort of repayment for what he'd been through. Dustil would figure out that they were here for the map soon enough. “I need the map.” 

“As you will, milord.” She couldn't tell if his echo of his father's earlier words was purposeful or not, but she felt no disrespect in it and let it go. They needed to move before Uthar had realized they'd cornered themselves and came to take advantage of that. He lit the lightsaber she'd given him, bathing the room in a sullen, crimson glow. She followed a moment later with her own, lightening the glow somewhat, before moving into the tomb. She could hear the whispering call of the animals living within it, eeriely amplified through the tomb. Wraid...definitely, snorting under the heckling call of the shyrack. Nothing Carth couldn't handle himself, much less Dustil. In fact... she waved Dustil up to stand side by side with her. He could use the experience, as much as he could get before they carried on to the Star Forge. He needed the measure of his new weapon. He needed to learn to fight beside her. He needed to finally grow into his gifts, instead of warily hiding them. 

“Shyrack.” Dustil breathed and she nodded. She'd caught the fluttering motion a moment earlier, but he'd been fast enough. He was good. She could feel it. He just needed a little help, a little focused attention, to get him on the right track. 

“Let's go get them.” Even though she said that, she hung back when he moved into contact, watching him as he went. She had precious little time to find out what she needed to know. She'd had years with Bastila, and possibly only weeks with him. 

Thankfully, he really was as adept as she'd sensed, taller with a longer reach, he discovered and covered her lacks quickly...she was accustomed to fighting with Bastila, in that one's huge combat apron, accustomed to holding herself small, tight and powerfully fast. She needed to learn a new apprentice's style as much as he needed to learn hers. He was as tall than his father, still growing, a little slower on his feet than she was used to, but when he hit, he hit decisively and strongly. She could certainly work with this. 

And he was definitely trying to work with her, cutting his way through the four shyrack fluttering in the antechamber, and returning to a cautious guard stance, his attention focused deeper into the tomb. “Wraid. Three of them. Nothing else.” 

She waved him forward. Again, wraid were not a real threat. These would probably be feisty wraid, it was cool in the tomb and unless they'd managed to pull down a shyrack or an apprentice recently, they'd probably been kept hungry. But even hungry and chilly wraid were simply large lizards, no match for a four year student of the Sith Academy armed with a decent lightsaber. If he couldn't handle these, there was no way he was up to the tasks ahead of them...and they simply needed to leave him somewhere safe. In here, only the tarentatek were a threat. Only they would bring her to the forefront of the fight.

Dustil nodded, moving into the next room. Although he had a Sith Lord, his new master, breathing down the back of his neck, he hadn't let that make him foolish. She glanced behind her, at Carth, weighing his expression, his feelings. He was so damned proud. So damned happy. She could just wrap herself up in it, but she didn't have the time to do so. But his wonder and joy was a buffer against the insidious dark side energy that the very stones breathed out around her. He was too focused on the gift in front of him, the breathless relief of finding his son again, to let the rage and shadows get into his soul. And that meant she could use him as a bulwark against the those shadows rising in her own soul, turn to the light he embraced. 

You have been given the tools to do what needs to be done.


	64. Chapter 64

Dad. That was a word that Carth had been certain he'd never be called again in his life. Only recently had he considered the possibility of having another child...but to hear that word fall from Dustil's lips, to hold him again... 

And to watch Dustil fight alongside Sarah was beyond amazing. His family. His beloved and his son, both force adepts. He'd admired Bastila and Sarah as they fought together as one, but now he understood that years of training together had given them that seamless fit. And now he watched his son learn the same dance beside her. He knew he should be worried, concerned...he was watching a Sith Lord, Revan herself, training his son. His son, clad in a Sith uniform, wielding a crimson lightsaber under her guidance. 

But it didn't matter. He'd rarely been more content than he was then, watching over their backs. Sarah...Revan...had given him back what he thought he'd never have again. He'd made the mistake of putting his career, his duty, ahead of his family before and he'd never do it again. 

“What's a tarentatek?” He finally asked. There had been honest concern in her voice when she'd spoken to Dustil about it. Sarah, who'd faced down a multitude of terrifying things during this journey with a broad, eager grin. He'd rarely seen her express doubt in her own abilities. But then, she'd always had Bastila there to back her up, almost every step of the way until now. 

Sarah paused, then waved at Dustil. “A tarentatek...” He began with a grimace, “Is most probably a strain of rancor changed by exposure to Sith Alchemy and growing in a strongly dark sided environment. They are assumed to have been created to hunt Jedi. They feed on the blood of force adept individuals.”

“Oh.” And since he was facing two force adepts that he cared about more than anything else in existence, those were hardly words that could make him comfortable. This was the first time he'd been along with Sarah to find one of the fragments, she'd been through a lot, while he'd been left minding the ship and Mission. She'd handled them all before, and had managed Manaan alone. She'd be okay. They'd all be okay. He had to hold on to that thought. Just one step at a time, they'd come so far already. 

“We've got this. Just lay down fire, they won't go for you first. I'll make sure they head for me.”

They. Not it. Carth sighed, staring down the hallway beyond his son. “How many?” He finally got the nerve up to ask. 

“I sense two, I think. They're naturally force resistant, but there are two places I can't sense. And those move.”

“How much good are blasters going to be against alchemically enhanced rancor designed to hunt Jedi?” Now, there was a question he'd never thought he'd be asking. 

“Amazingly good. They're force resistant. Not blaster resistant. We'll keep them moving, you shoot them.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He'd prefer more of a plan, but really...what else could they do with what they had? He'd become more used to ship mounted guns, but that wasn't an option. Even if he had the ship and those ship mounted guns, this tomb was protected deeply in the canyon, and those things were too close to the fragment for that to work. The only answer was to go into that hallway and on into that room, to place his faith in Sarah, in Dustil, and in himself. 

“Let's go.” He sighed, steeling his nerves and falling into step behind Sarah as she strode confidently forward, deeper into the tomb. It was lighter than he'd been expecting, his worst fears were to be dumped into total darkness, but the way was lit by wan, flickering lights recessed into the ceiling. It was only minimally better than nothing, it created shadows that moved and fluttered, grew and faded. And an opening to the right...a larger expanse...the sound of something large moving within. He heard shifting, snorting...and while Sarah might not be able to sense them, his low light/heat sensing glasses showed him beyond a shadow of a doubt that there were two large, moving creatures in the chamber beyond. “There are two of them, yes.” He confirmed, and she nodded. 

“How big?” She asked, fading back into the space behind him. 

Big. Big enough. But not nearly as big as he'd been afraid of. “About the same size as the rancor on Taris.” And that had been a young one. 

“Good. Good.” She breathed. “Then yes, Dustil and I will keep them moving. They're not very fast. We'll just whittle them down, hit by hit.”

She galvanized into motion, falling back into that dance he loved so much. And it was her serious, no wasted movements dance, sterile, practiced, second nature. She launched herself into the room, well beyond the taretatek before they could pin her up by the doorway. They turned to track her, giving Dustil his opening to charge in behind her. Carth made the doorway then, moving much more slowly than Sarah and Dustil had, and got his first good look at what they faced. Dustil was determinedly striking at the hindquarters of the beast closest to Sarah, and every time it would try to spin on him, she'd press her attack on its front. The other one was trying to get through its companion to get at either one of them, but they kept it moving, denying the attack. 

Carth remained at the doorway, he was simply not fast enough, nimble enough, to become embroiled in that, and those things...spiked, armored rancor...things...couldn't follow him into the hallway if he was forced to fall back. He opened fire on the one that they hadn't engaged, working to pull it off...to convince it to charge him. It obliged quite nicely, but couldn't even come close enough to gather enough of a head of steam to hit the wall hard enough to put him in any sort of danger when he dropped back into the hallway, shooting the whole time. It did have a pretty long reach with those claws, something it proved by reaching into the hallway for him, one glowing blue eye locked on him as it leaned against the way to get as close as possible. He responded by shooting over the claws, over the humped shoulder, concentrating fire on that eye area. It roared, ducking back into the room and Carth cautiously moved up again, now that he had the measure of how far it could reach. 

It was lumbering away, trying to refocus back on the closest target it had a chance of reaching, and Carth growled a harsh negative under his breath. No, not Dustil. He knew by the way his son's head tilted that the young man was aware it was closing in again, but Carth had been quite happy when it had been stuck in the doorway, impotently clawing the air trying vainly to reach him. He grouped a flurry of snap shots into its ass, tracking them up its back. It didn't really have a neck to speak of It was like trying to down a Mandalorian Basilisk war-droid with these, the side blasters of a naval officer. It created a lot of noise and bright lights, but was pretty damned useless. 

Sarah gracefully flipped over its head, landing between it and Carth's treasured doorway, evading every single shot he'd fired before he realized she was on her way in. It turned, attracted by her passage, and charged the door again. Its back was pretty impervious, but its front was not...it had a face, eyes, and a fairly large and fleshy looking patch behind its face tusks. 

Dustil attacked it from the side as Sarah rolled in the opposite way, and it turned its head, giving Carth a shot even a blind man couldn't miss...that large, blood infused patch of naked skin, just scant meters away. He grouped another flurry of shots into it and an aerosol puff of blood formed in the air. It screamed, throwing its head to the other side to cover the wound against its side...narrowly missing Sarah as she hopped backwards. 

No, no, no. Throwing its head to the side had opened up the same patch on the other side, and Carth repeated the shot grouping into it. This time there was a gush of blood and the creature frenzied, sending both force users scrambling away from it...Sarah pelting down the wall towards the farthest corner, and Dustil barreling into Carth as they both retreated into the safety of the hallway. 

Sarah. Carth pushed his way out from behind Dustil, rushing for the doorway again. She was perfectly safe, she'd taken a perch on top of the edge of the cornice that edged the ceiling of the room. She was barely small enough to fit, but she was out of reach of the two enraged and injured terentatek. And she seemed perfectly willing to wait, wait for them to bleed, weaken...die. Carth was fairly certain that he'd killed the one, and they'd had a lot of time beating on the other... they'd hamstrung it at some point, it was limping, dragging a leg, panting. 

He was tempted to shoot at it, but uncertain if he should. The last thing they needed was one of these dead in the doorway...that would pin Sarah down on the fragment side...and the pair of them on the other side. Getting her out would be a long and bloody endeavor, cutting a couple of tons of creature apart with lightsabers and moving it chunk by chunk. It was nothing he wanted to spend his time doing. It made more sense to wait for one or both of them to die. 

And it didn't take long at all before one, and then the other, collapsed into motionless heaps on the floor. Sarah hopped down, cautiously approached them, lightsaber held at the ready. The first remained still when she touched the rosy blade to its head, and then, through its skull. The second only twitched when she repeated the process. 

“Not much farther.” She breathed, “I can feel it.” 

“The map doesn't do anything. It hasn't since Revan left here, master.” Dustil sounded concerned, but then, they'd just hacked their way through two monsters created simply to destroy them. The idea of that being all for nothing was disturbing, especially if it left them with a temperamental Sith Lord denied her prize. 

“I will see it anyway.” She stated, moving on into the final chamber. It was much less grand than Carth had been expecting, cluttered with fallen stones and detritus. The footings for a sarcophagus sized stonework had been laid, but there was none. There was nothing but a folded tripod in the corner, so insignificant, so easily overlooked, but Sarah was headed straight for it. 

She got about three meters away from it when he heard a distinct click from it. It whirred to life, the vibration filling the small chamber, before it opened, the sphere in the base rising to hover in the air. The sphere glowed brightly yellow, and then the light expanded to encompass the full span of the tripod's extended arms. It darkened to teal, and solidified into a perfectly clear star map. Sarah looked content, pleased, unsurprised. Dustil, however, had a measuring stare as he stared at the tableau...his brows drawn down, a line between them. 

“The map opens for Revan and Revan alone.” He stated and she glanced back at him. 

“Don't be silly. What would be the point of creating a series of map segments, thousands of years ago, if only one Sith Lord could ever use them? Unless you're suggesting that this race had some sort of force vision that told them to go out and create a trail of bread crumbs to lead only Revan along? Revan was good. Maybe even great. But hardly unique. We stand in a canyon surrounded by the remains of great Sith Lords, after all. We are born. We learn. We rise. And we all fall.” She held her hand out to Carth and he passed her the datapad, watching her copy the information from the map onto it. 

“Is this the last one? Do we have the end coordinates?” It would just be their luck if that wasn't so. It wasn't as if Revan and Malak had been on reporting terms with the Order when they'd taken this trek the last time... and this time they'd been trusting the words of the Enclave's masters. 

“We...do.” Her brows, or where her brows should be under all of that pale makeup, rose. She passed it to him and he studied it in shock. No wonder they'd never found it on their own. It was deep in the Unknown Regions, far within the trackless abyss of the galactic west. Without this map, they had no chance of getting there and back. “Let's go.” They had what they'd come for. The faster they got off of Korriban, the better. The sooner they were allowed to be themselves again, the better. The longer that Sarah...Revan...was on Korriban, the more risk he ran in losing her. And if he lost her here, in that way, she'd take Dustil with her. 

“He's coming.” She stated suddenly, in that vague tone he knew all too well. Who was he? Malak? Had this all just been a trap? Had they been recognized? 

“Malak?” He demanded, and wished immediately he could take it back when Dustil's expression clouded suspiciously, his son's dark eyes locked on his face. 

She snorted in answer. “No. Uthar. He waits for us in the room with the tarentatek. And he's not alone.” 

Well, that was better than his first fear. The last time they'd encountered Malak, they had lost Bastila. They couldn't afford to lose anyone else. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else. “You can take him.” He'd seen her grind that point in during their sparring match earlier. Had she been injured during the fight with the tarentatek? He hadn't asked in front of Dustil, it was an impertinent question given his 'station'. Was she exhausted? She didn't seem to be either one, she didn't feel it or look it. 

“Of course I can take him.” She rolled her eyes at him and he had to smile at her. So much confidence, so much utter assurance in her own abilities, it was a marvel to watch. She then gave Dustil a long stare and he simply stared back at her, refusing to blink, look away or back down. 

“Don't ask.” Dustil finally stated and she nodded, taking a deep breath and marching back the way they'd come from...towards the room with the dead tarentatek and the not so dead Academy overseer. What had Dustil meant by that statement? Was he refusing to back her up against someone who had been responsible for him for years? She was someone he'd just met, she'd claimed him, and he wasn't exactly brimming with joy over his very recent reunion with his father. Don't make me choose. I can't do it. He couldn't imagine a horror worse than Sarah squaring off against Dustil. No. It was chilly in the tomb, but Carth was washed in a sudden wash of cold sweat. If she sensed his mood, she gave no sign, moving right past him. And she gave no sign that she found Dustil falling into step behind her to be threatening. But then, could he be a threat to her? He'd been here for only four years, Sarah had decades of experience and training. The force loved her, kept her close and acted on her relentlessly... Dustil could be no match for that. Surely he had to understand that to go against her now would be suicide.

“Overseer Uthar.” Her voice dropped back into Revan mode, and Carth pulled his blasters again. That tone promised blood and violence, always. “What a coincidence, finding you here.” 

“Darth...Augural. Interesting choice of tombs to go into. There should be little to nothing here to attract a Sith Lord such as yourself. There's so much more in, say, the tomb of Tulak Hord. Or Marka Ragnos. Yet you passed them by with barely a look. The only thing of note here is the map...Revan's map. Hardly something that you should be interested in, unless of course, you did not tell me truth as to who, what, you are.” 

Please, no children. Carth could handle killing adults over Sarah, he'd done it before and he'd do it again. But to kill children, youths, he didn't know if he could... But there would be no need to. Both of the people standing behind Uthar were quite adult, probably cadre, trainers here at the Academy. And both had that look about them that he understood meant that they had fallen to the dark side, ashen complexions, pale eyes, gaunt features. Colorless people in colorless uniforms. 

“I am not a student. I do not answer to you. If you doubt who...what... I am, we can repeat our last fight, only this time I will take you to task for your insolence.” 

The Jedi bought a task force to take Revan down. She killed them all but Bastila...and was only brought down then by Malak's flagship firing on her bridge. Uthar and his backup were outclassed, if not outnumbered. 

“I don't believe there is a Darth Augural. I think you're a Jedi spy. A Jedi spy who knows way, way too much. Malak will be pleased...” 

Carth wasn't certain what had passed between Sarah and Dustil, but they both moved as one. It was a repeat of Sarah's tactics on the Leviathan's bridge, she yanked Uthar up into the air with a sharp motion of her hand, leaving him spinning impotently there while she attacked his male companion. As threatened, this was not a show fight, not a sparring match. Sarah was in it for the kill and yes, she certainly outclassed her opponents...cutting down both of Uthar's people in one calculated spinning swath of destruction before she turned back to him. He fell to the floor, coughing, his eyes flicking between her and Dustil. 

“We can take her, boy. Malak will be pleased with both of us... It will bring you to the attention of the Dark Lord himself.” 

Don't try it, Dustil. Don't. I love you. I love her. We can just leave, work this all out when we have the chance to. You don't belong here. 

 

Dustil smiled, and that smile was a close twin to the smile that Sarah got when she was going to kill someone she was certain deserved that death. It was rage, revenge, and a promise. “Where is Selene?” He ground out the syllables. “What did you do to her? You killed her, I know you did...you son of a bitch!” 

Carth froze, trying to make sense of it all. He'd suffered loss, still dealt with the pain of it everyday, and he recognized it in his own son's words. Anguish...Dustil was young to know that, but he did. It reverberated in that demand. 

“She was the only person I had...and you took her. Just admit it. Tell me the truth.” Dustil continued, and Sarah backed away from Uthar, returning to a guard position. Not my kill now. Yours. 

Uthar looked between the silent Sarah, her face painted by the glow of her lightsaber, and Dustil, a study in barely contained rage and outrage. “She was holding you back.” He finally said. “She made you weak. Distracted. She gave you doubts. I did you a favor. You should be thanking me.” 

And Sarah took another step backwards, distancing herself just a little bit more from the conflict. “And you.” Uthar spun on her, “You know I speak the truth. If you are truly a Sith Lord, you...you understand.”

Sarah laughed softly... an odd mix of mockery and the understanding that the man pleaded for. “I understand.” She admitted. “And you...you understand that I will let him have you for it. If you are truly Sith...you understand that as well.” 

His face froze, whatever hope he'd had fleeing. “I see now that you truly are Sith.” He breathed. “I was wrong to doubt you. Well, get it over with then, boy. Your master doesn't have all day.” 

Dustil's eyes found Carth's, and he hesitated for just a heartbeat, waiting for his father to say, do something. But Carth did not utter a sound, he'd been in this same position, lightsaber in hand, facing the person who had killed the woman he'd loved. There had been a lot more history, good and bad, between him and Karath, but it didn't change the facts. He'd taken his revenge, and Dustil would take his own. This man was dead anyway, either Dustil killed him, or Sarah. The end result was the same. This was a man who killed teenagers and styled it 'training'. He deserved what he received, after all, he'd been trying to bring this out in Dustil. 

Dustil took a deep breath, his brows lowering, and then he swept out in a decisive strike, the scarlet lightsaber singing through the air as he cut. Uthar fell to the floor at his feet, silent, dead.


	65. Chapter 65

Carth slept peacefully, swathed in cool silken sheets. It had taken a bit to get him there, he had so much going on in his brain, but she'd managed anyway. He was still recovering, he needed his sleep before they ran out of time. He needed to be at the top of his game going into...well, whatever the hell they were going into. All she knew was that it wasn't nearly over and that he still had a major part to play in it all. “When this is all over...” She whispered to the room, smoothing his hair. “You and I are going to go on a vacation. To some place really, really nice.” 

Dustil was awake in the next room, she could feel him thinking, pondering, and she stepped into the room with him...moving to stare out of the window instead of facing him directly. He was lying on the couch, and had been staring at the ceiling until he'd sensed her presence. Now she had his full attention. “This was all just a ruse.” He sighed, and she glanced back at him. He'd sat up, then he stood, moving to stand beside her. “I'm not your apprentice, am I? You are here for the map. I haven't figured out why you have my father with you, yet, but you're not here for the reasons you gave Uthar. And you're not staying.” 

He must have a master. He can't have a Jedi master, they'd never take him. He's too old, he was too old when he came here. And he's been here too long, there's too much of Korriban in him now. I will not leave him here, which means he will never have a Sith master. He needs both...or neither. He needs me. 

“This is all just a ruse.” She began slowly, and although his face remained still, his eyes fell. “I needed the map. There is no Darth Augural. Never has been. We're not staying. However, you are my apprentice. I take that duty seriously, Dustil.” 

He moved slowly, cautiously, resting the tips of his fingers on her cheekbones and tilting her head to stare into her face, into her eyes. “Those aren't faked.” He stated. “You are Sith. You are a Sith Lord.” 

She shrugged. Figuring out just what she was could be confusing. She wasn't precisely certain, herself. She understood the latter parts, from when she'd ceased to be Darth Revan, she understood the beginning parts, when she'd become Amasri, Jedi Knight. It was the middle part that was obscured, hidden, incomprehensible. How did I fall? 

“Not faked. I...” Was what? A Jedi? No. A Sith? No. I am the woman that loves your father. And he loves me. “It's complicated.” Well, that was putting it mildly, but truthfully. 

“My father is not a complicated man.” 

He is more complex than you give him credit for. “You look at him through the eyes of the child who knew him as a father. But you are no longer that child. And he is no longer that father.” Carth was still a father, still his father, but he'd never be the father he had been again. And Dustil would never be the child he had been, again. They had to build from where they were, not where they had been. 

“He wasn't there when we needed him.” 

No, he wasn't. Carth's attention had been locked on the big picture, the War, his duty. He'd been forced to make a choice where neither of his options were the right one. “Your father would not have survived had he been on Telos during the bombing.” Dustil had survived because of his age. Carth would have been executed. He'd be dead, gone. By then, the last thing Karath had needed was his own protegé, a prodigy, alive to threaten his rise as Admiral of the Sith Fleets. There was too much chance that he could have come to Revan's attention. Sarah smiled at the idea, but playing with what could have been was not getting anything done. What mattered now was that Carth was here, alive. Dustil was here, alive. And she was here, alive. 

“So can I ask?”

“Ask what?” He was being impertinent, but she was more than happy to hear it. If he went into a new apprentice's shell, she couldn't get him up to speed fast enough to depend on him. He needed to be a partner, a resource. Questions were good. Opening up to her was as well. 

“What is my father to you? He's about the last person I'd see in this...whatever this...is.” 

“Your father is my companion, my pilot, my consort, my rock and my light when things get dark.” Right now, Carth shouldered the spiritual weight of not just one, but two Jedi slipping under the dark side. 

“The darkness is not something to hide from.” Dustil began dubiously, and she snorted in answer. 

“Not something to hide from, correct, as if one was a child hiding from shadows under the bed. It is something to be accepted, even embraced...at the right times. You can't find the stars during the daylight. But it's damned hard to see in darkness, Dustil. That's when you turn on a light, to see everything that is around you. If you know both the dark and the light, you see the stars and the world. But you have to already know that, because you have not fallen.” He'd been here for years. If he didn't have doubts, held within his soul, he'd be Sith. His eyes wouldn't be brown, darker than his father's, they'd be pale. He had his father's complexion, pale, but it wasn't tinged with gray. He'd been putting up a fight for himself, that much was obvious, and now she was there to help. “You're never going to do well here. Korriban is a pit for you.” 

That, at least, was true. If he was meant for it, it would have already happened. It was time to get him out of here. And if he'd lost someone to the Academy, then he should have few remaining misconceptions about just what it was, and what it did. “I'm not saying that your father was, is, perfect. He was put in an untenable situation, and you paid the price for it. As has he. It's not easy to have to balance a calling, duty, responsibility and such against what one wants in life. Surely by now, after here, you understand that there are certain people who possess vital skills and having that affects their entire lives. Force skills, piloting skills, leadership. It's all the same, Dustil. Your father's gift, his ability to fly, to lead, has been as much of a burden and a curse as it is any sort of blessing. Just as yours are. Just as mine are. He did what he thought was right. He answered the call.” And Carth had paid dearly for it. Dustil was old enough to begin to grasp that now. 

“You're telling me to forgive my father.” A thin thread of mutiny rose in Dustil's words and Sarah shook her head. That was something she couldn't tell him to do. Only time could work that magic. 

“No. I am not. I am asking you to consider the situation and to ask yourself what you would have done in the same circumstances. I cannot force forgiveness.” Not truly. She could probably work at an unwilling facsimile of it, but she could not craft the truth from manipulating him. “But.” His brows rose at the steel in her voice, his attention locked on her. “Your father is not negotiable. Messing with him is messing with me, and I fully intend to keep him.” 

“Understood.” He paused, watching the same view as she was, the Valley bathed in moonlight and shadows. “Although I do not understand how it came to be...”

“And you won't. For now.” It was one thing to give him a little, to trust him a bit, to let him know where he stood...and where he didn't stand. But the whole story was just going to have to wait for more secure surroundings. Not Korriban. Not the Academy. “Get some sleep.” 

He nodded, returning to the couch and she returned to where she belonged, at Carth's side, in their bed. 

She woke to the smell of caf and food, and she opened an eye, puzzled. Carth had barely shifted during the night, his breathing was still deep and even and he showed no signs of waking up. But she definitely smelled food and after the evening before, she was famished. 

She slid out of the bed, wrapping herself in a handy under-robe and stepping into the front room. Dustil was awake, dressed...although he was only in trousers and shirt...no boots or uniform tunic. And he was holding a carafe in one hand and a tray in the other. “I...uh...peeked in and realized my father was not going to wake up.” He said, giving her a strained half smile. He was trying to hide the visual, but by the effort, it hung foremost in his mind, screaming for her attention. What he'd seen left few doubts as to just how comfortable she was with Carth, and vice versa. They'd been together long enough to work out how they preferred to sleep together, and night clothes had never been part of the deal. When Carth was off of his game, injured, exhausted, he tended to sleep on his side or his stomach, turned away from her. Her usual response to that was to plaster herself against his side or his back, forehead resting against his shoulder or back. And the image foremost in Dustil's mind was exactly that, he'd seen nothing truly embarrassing to her, but he was having some difficulty working his mind around finding his naked father in bed with a woman who was not his mother. It was funny as hell. That's right, kiddo. Your dad sleeps with your master. Get over it. 

“Thank you.” She sat at the small table, helping herself. He watched her for a moment before sitting next to her, taking a piece of toast and picking it into small pieces. He seemed both intent on her, and a world away. She didn't push, eating in silence.

“What now?” He finally asked, “Unless your plans are to take over the Academy?” He didn't bother to bleed the doubt from his voice, and she smiled.

“No. I have utterly no interest in the Academy. We will be leaving Korriban on the next available transport headed in the direction I need to go.” Leaving Korriban, and never returning. It was a choice now, a decision to be made...and she'd made it without even thinking. Bastila cannot wait. 

“And that direction is?” 

“Nar Shaddaa.” To drop this farce, scrub her face clean, pull the jeweled pins from her hair, pick up her ship and her crew family and take the final step. The Star Forge. 

“I'll go see about making arrangements.” He stood up, moving away to pick up his tunic. She opened her mouth to protest, but then silenced. She was the Lord, his master. It was her place to make her desires known...it was his and his father's place to make them happen. And the farce wasn't over yet, things could still go very badly here. If Malak realized that she was here with Carth and no ship...it would all be over. But how could he not know? He'd been summoned to Manaan after they'd been captured. Why else would she be there? 

Trap, trap, trap. All just a trap. It had to be. But they'd already come so far that to turn around, to abandon this, seemed like such a waste. They'd lost Bastila, and Sarah couldn't live with that. And even if she could, then what? She wasn't a Jedi. She wasn't Sith. She wasn't Amasri. She wasn't Revan. She'd betrayed the Empire. She'd betrayed the Republic. She'd burned every single bridge in her life, or had it burned for her. There was nowhere for her to go to, and certainly no place to take Carth to. Had she agonized over Malachor like this? Doubted herself then?

Yes. 

And she'd still done it. Because she'd needed to. And she needed to do this, to see it through to the end. After that, she could try to fit the pieces of her life together. But now, she didn't have that luxury. They had to just keep going. 

“Ugh. Ah, shit.” Well, that was Carth...awake and sparkly. She moved to the doorway and surveyed him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrubbing his fingers across his face and through his hair. “ Why didn't you wake me up?”

“I went to all that fuss to get you to sleep last night.” Well, it had actually been early this morning, and she felt no guilt over what she'd done to him. He needed rest, he needed to recover, and she had a younger, less battered Onasi to get her breakfast and make her arrangements for her. “Dustil is seeing about the schedule to leave Korriban.” 

“Do you trust him? I mean, Sarah...if you do because he's my son, he hasn't been that in a long time. More than enough time to break here.” The words wounded him, but he forced his way through them and she rested her arm across his shoulders. 

“I know that better than you do, Carth. Let me be the one to watch and judge him. You...you need to treat him like he's your son. I will be the one to treat him like he's a young Sith fresh out of the Academy.” 

 

It was a relief to get out of the sharkskin coat, to be allowed to be himself again. To watch Sarah scrub herself clean, to see her stop hiding behind a doll's makeup and an exorbitant robe. She was so beautiful as she was that to see her do that to herself was a travesty. He understood why it had been necessary, but that didn't change his feelings. And it was even more of a relief was to see Dustil out of uniform, he still stood like he was clad in a gray Sith uniform tunic, but he wore the clothes that Sarah had handed him this morning and he did it without outward complaint. It was obvious he was not comfortable in it, but he could not make the transition over to the Hawk while in it. And Carth was going to give him the option of how much he said to who...if Dustil chose not to tell Mission and the others where he'd been and what he'd been doing, then Carth would support that. All they needed to know was that he was Carth's son, Sarah's apprentice. 

We're taking him to the Star Forge. 

It was a chilling thought, but it was the truth. Leaving him somewhere was not an option, he couldn't send him onto Brentaal without someone to be there for him. Dustil needed Sarah. And Sarah needed Dustil. He couldn't put his finger on the how or the why, but she did. He couldn't deny either one of them whatever they needed. Dustil wasn't his little boy anymore, small enough to be thrown into the air. Dustil was almost...no, no almost...Dustil was a man. He'd gotten there sooner than Carth would have preferred, but he couldn't change the past. Dustil was going to stand beside Sarah just as much as he was. He was going to do it with a lightsaber, while Carth could only pull a blaster. And he'd tried that on Malak before, to no avail. He wanted someone with a lightsaber at Sarah's side, at Sarah's back...and if that couldn't be Bastila, then it needed to be Dustil. The only way he could protect both of them was to let this happen. Whatever happened, they faced it together. 

“What are your plans?” He asked and Sarah glanced at him. Now that they were here, it seemed like this had all gone too quickly. He wanted to pause, to take a breath, but he knew they couldn't. Bastila. The Republic Fleets. Everything counted on them getting this done, and done quickly. 

“We jump for Brentaal.” 

He frowned, watching Dustil standing guard over their bags. Things couldn't be left alone on a Nar Shaddaa dock with the expectation that they would stay on that dock. But Brentaal was a risky move...he was technically stationed there. There was a huge Naval presence there. It was close to Coruscant. “Why?” He finally asked when she seemed content with that simple statement. 

“Right now, this datapad is it. The only way to find the Star Forge, unless someone else goes through what we just went through. And considering I tampered with the Kashyyyk one, there's no telling if it can ever be accessed by anyone else, ever again. If we jump into this system and last only seconds, all of this will have been for nothing. No one will know. No one will know that we lost Bastila, no one will know where we went. Or when we vanished. They need to know, Carth. We jump into Brentaal, we send a delayed message, and we jump out from there. The Navy will get the message no matter what. Coruscant is too packed, too chaotic, and the Jedi have too much of a hold there. They're all too likely to recognize the Hawk, to sense my presence on-board. Too risky. But I won't take this information with us without some back up plan. A just in case.” 

“Brentaal is my duty station, my admiral's duty station.” Unless he'd been locked out, he should have access to most Naval channels and communications. He should be able to send a message straight to his admiral's office, straight to her desk. “I can probably send a message straight to her.” 

Sarah grinned, and it was like a beam of light cutting through dark clouds. Her eyes were still unwaveringly yellow, but it was surprising how quickly he'd become accustomed to that. He knew he should find it unattractive, off putting, but he didn't. It was still Sarah, just Sarah with bright yellow eyes instead of gray, those hidden at the moment behind a set of darkened glasses. “Excellent.” She chuckled. “There's our ride.” 

The Hawk appeared through the darkened smog, on a straight, no frills approach. Carth couldn't help but study, measure, judge it. Canderous's piloting skills were functional, and he flew like they were. No risks, no flair, no show. His landing was passable, but not optimal. It didn't matter, he'd gotten the freighter down in one piece. 

There was a moment before the lock cycled open, Mission bounding down the ramp. Carth steeled himself, he was the closest and he'd get it first... She was already talking a parsec a minute, not giving him the slightest chance to actually reply to her, to answer her, when she threw her arms around him. “You're okay! You're both okay! And you multiplied!” Her eyes fell on the silent Dustil standing slightly behind Sarah. His proximity made it obvious that he was with them, not just a dock lurker. 

“We're both okay, Mission.” Sarah chuckled when it was her turn to be embraced, grunting when the exuberant twi'lek lifted her off of the decking. “Really. It's all good.” 

Canderous had appeared, much less enthusiastic, much more cautious. He weighed everything laid out before him, his gaze grazing over Carth, then Sarah, and finally, Dustil. It stayed there, and Canderous stayed just inside of the ship. “All good?” He echoed Sarah's last words. “Got what you went for and more?” 

“This is my son, Dustil.” Carth stated firmly, and ignored the rest. There was no other place that they could have gotten him but Korriban. And Canderous would not begrudge him this amazing gift, this second chance. “He's with us for this. And yes, we got what we went there for.” And more. 

“Your son.” The older man gazed across the scene from the high ground of the freighter's hatch, then smiled. “That is a good thing to hear. A good thing, indeed. I'll buy you a drink to celebrate. Both of you.” He nodded, “But we aren't staying here long enough for that, are we?”

“No, we need to go. We'll have to do it when we're done, but it sounds good. Definitely.” Carth wished he could stir up something a little more optimistic, he wished he could seem as confident as Sarah seemed to manage so easily. “We've got what appears to be the location.” 

“There will be time enough for introductions and getting to know each other on the way.” Sarah's voice was even but still firmly edged with command. She was in charge, and she knew it. The further along they got, the less she tried to obscure it. Of course, now she also knew who and what she was. She'd had time to start to come to grips with it. “Mission, help Dustil with the bags. We're leaving as soon as possible. Carth, you know where we're going...”

He nodded, climbing the ramp to move beyond Canderous before she'd had the time or inclination to finish...if she meant to finish it at all. There was no need for her to, he knew where they were going, and he was the pilot. Canderous followed, taking the co-pilot's seat beside him. Everything looked good and when he closed his eyes and listened to the freighter, everything felt good. He knew where they were going, knew it to the detail that he could decide the perfect approach into Brentaal for what Sarah wanted and what he had at his disposal. He could blend the freighter into the independent traffic at the far lee point, just one more questionable tramp freighter in a sea of them. That would still give him access to the Naval base's lee communication buoy, but shouldn't bring them to too much attention from the authorities. 

“Brentaal?” Canderous asked warily, and he nodded. He knew he'd be nervous if he saw Canderous plotting a jump into Mandalore or Concordia with him on-board the ship. 

“Brentaal. Sarah wants to send the Republic Navy the coordinates we're jumping to. Just in case we don't make it.” He sighed, “Brentaal is her choice. It's my duty station so I should have the comm access to get them where they need to go without attracting too much attention. And it's on the way. She doesn't want to deal with the Republic or the Jedi. We're just there to get the coordinates to Dodonna and we're jumping out again. To there...” He brought the final coordinates up on the co-pilot's screen and the older man whistled between his teeth. 

“Deep in the ass end of nowhere.” 

“Deep in the ass end of nowhere.” Carth agreed, toggling the main ship comms on. “We all in?” 

“All present and accounted for. Dust off when you're ready.” 

Ready. Was he? Of course he was ready to pilot, that went without saying. Was he ready to jump to Brentaal? Yes. He'd done it dozens of times. Was he ready to go beyond that? He had to be. There was too much riding on this for him to try to back out now, this was their last true chance. Anything beyond this would be suicidal, especially now that they'd lost Bastila. They either had to recover her or destroy the Star Forge, and both of those had to be done at the point far out in the Galactic west. 

He fluttered the freighter's engines, cleared the pad, deftly avoided the buildings and other ships coming in, and hit jump the first possible moment, tearing away from Nar Shaddaa. 

“Flawless, as usual.” He'd been so focused on what he was doing that he'd missed Sarah come behind him, but by the way that Canderous had shifted in the co-pilot's seat, the Mandalorian had been more alert to his surroundings than he'd been. She rested her fingertips on his shoulders, her thumbs on the nape of his neck. “We've got this.” 

“Was I that obvious?” He already knew the answer to that. She read him like an opened tab laid out on a screen in front of her, she felt him. She'd never tried to hide it once she had understood it herself. 

“No.” She pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “Nor have I looked. But if you aren't concerned about this, then you'd be a fool. And you're not a fool.” 

“You're taking my son to the Star Forge.” 

Canderous locked his attention on his suddenly very interesting and completely blank co-pilot's screen. 

“I'm taking your son to the Star Forge. I'm taking you to the Star Forge. I'm taking Mission to the Star Forge. Canderous. Zaalbar. We're all going, Carth. Every person I love, care for...is going. And I'm the one taking them there.” She chuckled under her breath. “Only a fool isn't concerned about this. And I'm not a fool.” 

Carth wished he had words, something to give her at that moment, something supportive, but Canderous completely destroyed the tension with an outright laugh. “Look.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. “I don't quite know all the shit that's going on here, but I'm running out of time so I'm just going to come out and ask it... Do you know who you are yet, or not?” 

“Uh...” Carth simply stared at him. Surely he wasn't asking what he seemed to be asking? 

“I am...” She took a deep breath. “The Revanchist. Revan. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes. That's what I mean. I was wondering if I was going to have to be the one to tell you. Because I'll follow Revan onto the Star Forge without a second thought, but you need to know that's who you are, or I won't go.” 

He knew all along. Carth didn't know whether to laugh or scream. The sneaky bastard had known before Carth had. Hell, he'd known before Sarah had. “How?” He finally asked. What had Canderous seen that he had missed? 

“We paid good money for information on what could possibly hit the field. It's how I recognized you.” He stared at Carth for a moment, then shrugged. “And Alek was extremely open in his actions. It didn't take much for the spies we hired to draw the correlation between Alek's vanished comrade Amasri to the 'new' companion he still followed with the same fervor. And then we saw the pair of you in battle together, and all doubts were gone. After that, it was simple to find information on Idarn. I'd seen the images of you, but I wasn't certain. I thought you might have been a relative of, or just someone who happened to look like Amasri Idarn. When I heard you use the name on Kashyyyk, that pretty much drove it home. You were Revan. A very messed up Revan, with a Jedi handler. I had to know what was going on, and if you needed help, I would see if I could give it to you. And now, now I follow Revan into battle. Glorious.” 

Mandalorians. Even after all of this time, they never made an iota of sense to Carth. He'd been told that they didn't hold their defeat at Malachor against Revan, just the opposite. She'd won. She'd beaten them at their own game. She had been the better warrior.


	66. Chapter 66

“So.” Sarah had taken to sparring with Dustil after Mission went to bed, she'd developed a rather hilarious crush on Dustil that was awkward and distracting when he was trying to concentrate on Sarah's words. It was obvious he'd inherited a lot of his father's easygoing nature and somehow managed to keep it intact through Korriban, because he treated the smitten teenaged twi'lek with gentle care. “When are you going to tell me what I need to know? You train me to fight, fight hard, and fight soon. We're going someplace. My old man is nervous as hell about it, he watches you. And I still don't know who you are.” 

She blocked his incoming thrust with a sudden, sharp strike, trying to throw him off balance. She failed, he had a tight center of balance, his grasp of lightsaber combat had been strong when he'd come to her and it was increasing day by day. Good, it had to...they arrived at Brentaal tomorrow. And from there, it was a straight line shot to the Star Forge...and Malak. 

“Who I am.” He had to know, she had to tell him. And he would be the first one that she actually told. “Is Sarah...your father's fiancee.” He was trying to move her into a corner, to cut down on her options to evade his attacks, but she denied the attempt, rolling underneath him and hopping up behind him...pinning him in the corner instead. 

“Yeah, I get that... Stepmom.” He chose to use his size and bulk to break it, pushing into an overbear attack. “I also get that my dad seems to be UA, hard as that one is to believe.” 

“That's debatable. The Admiralty put him on this path in the first place.” Admittedly, he should have checked in at some point and Dustil was correct, there was a high chance that Carth had been declared absent without authorization. It was just something that they'd have to deal with later, if there was a later. “However, since you want an introduction, my name is Amasri Idarn. Better known as Revan.” 

“Revan? But Revan is dead...Malak betrayed Revan in the Outer Rim, destroyed her flag. She was lost. Every Sith knows that.” He said the right words, but there was a healthy thread of doubt under them. What 'every Sith knew' was suspect in his mind. Good. 

“I am indeed lost to the Sith.” She went into a guard, disengaging from him by retreating into the main bay before extinguishing her lightsaber. “I will not return to them. But Malak will pay, Dustil. He will pay for what he's done to me. What he's done to my padawan. And for what he's done to your father.” 

His gaze dropped to the deck, his brows twisting. “I...see.” 

“Do you? Malak ordered the bombing of Telos. That order killed your mother. He broke Karath to the point where the man who once stood by your father took those orders and carried them out. And very recently, tortured your father.” If he changed his mind now, they still had a chance to get rid of him here, on Brentaal. Carth's duty station, probably equipped with a dependent support staff. “I'm going after Malak. That's what this is all about.” 

“And my dad? You convinced him to go along with a revenge plan? Promised him Karath's blood? You said the admiralty signed off on this?”

She sighed, sitting down at the table and motioning for him to sit across from her. “I already delivered on my promise to give him Karath's blood.” She said as he sat down. “And yes, the admiralty signed off on this...well, sort of. They did at the beginning.” But now? Who knew? They'd been gone for months now, chasing map fragments across the galaxy, deliberately keeping a low profile, staying on a path that had never come close to any major Republic worlds. For all the Republic knew, they could have failed, vanished, died along the way...especially if the Enclave on Dantooine had truly fallen. “But that was awhile ago.” She twined her fingers together, her elbows resting on the tabletop. Dustil's gaze fell on the ring that crowned her hand, and his frown deepened. Of course he noticed it, while it was not exorbitantly large or overtly showy, it breathed with the force. It was content now, happy with what it was and where it was. 

“So my Dad, his new Sith Lord girlfriend, an overly exuberant and truly annoying teenaged twi'lek, a Mandalorian and a wookiee are going to go take down Darth Malak?” 

“That's the plan.” She really wished he hadn't put it in quite that way, but it was accurate enough. 

“And if I don't like it?” He locked her with a steady stare, an odd shadow of his father in his features. She hadn't lost him yet...

“We drop you here, on Brentaal. It's your father's current duty station, we send a message to his admiral that you've been recovered. You're still underage, and you are still legally his dependent.” 

“I can never be a Jedi, Sarah.” 

“I know. Neither can I, anymore.” The Order had given it a valiant try, but now that that she knew, now that she understood, it would never work. She remembered what she had never been supposed to recover. “And you're not meant to be Sith. I don't think I am, either. I am neither. You are neither. It works, Dustil.” He had to be trained, now more than ever. He was too close, too damned vulnerable, still very young. 

“I'm in.” He nodded firmly, standing and pulling his lightsaber. “Let's go. It doesn't sound like we've got a lot of time.” 

No, no, they didn't. She stood, flipping her own hilt over in her hand. She only had a handful of weeks to try to get him ready for a mission that would cause a fully trained and released Jedi Knight to think twice. After all, the Enclave had sent six of those to drag her off of Coruscate's bridge...and that would have been unsuccessful odds on their part if Malak had not thrown in. As it was, Bastila had been the only survivor...and that was because even then, Sarah would not have killed her. 

At least the steady sparring with an unfamiliar opponent was helping her as well, she'd lost a lot of edge in the past year and a half. She needed it back if she was going to have any hope of squaring off against Malak. 

They finished, Dustil excusing himself, heading towards the refresher while Sarah moved forward, to the cockpit. Carth lounged in the pilot's seat, his eyes closed. He was not asleep, not even close, and she sat next to him, studying the screens in front of him. Their jump course had been plotted in. There was a message draft ready to send. All he had to do was hit send, and then jump, and they'd be on their way. One last leg before the end of all of this. 

“Well? Does he know?” 

“He does.” 

He sighed, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Do we leave him here, or do we take him?” His voice was flat and Sarah's heart broke. For him, neither one would be the optimal answer. Leaving Dustil at Brentaal would cause problems. They'd just found him, Carth was beginning to make inroads into repairing a relationship. Brentaal would also not be the best place to leave a sixteen year old just recovered from Korriban. The Jedi would be all over that. 

“We take him.” He was needed. He should be there. He would fill Bastila's place in all of this. They needed him. She needed him. “We go, Carth. We all go.” 

“Is he any good? I mean, good enough to help take care of you during this? It's a lot to ask.”

It was a lot to ask and Sarah had been turning it over and over in her mind since they'd arrived at Brentaal two days ago. And every time, the answer was the same...Dustil needed to be there with her. “He's more than good enough, Carth. We go.” 

He nodded, leaning forward and hitting the send button on the message screen. They were now committed, that message would appear on his admiral's desk in seconds, there was no way to get it back now. He completed the motion by dropping his hand to the jump throttles and gracefully pulling them back. The star field in front of her blurred, extended, and then faded into the rainbow cascade of jump space. They were on their way, all they had to do now was wait. 

“Come on, big guy. Let's go get some sleep.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sarah reclined in the dorsal gun gimbal, foot propped on the brake while she studied the tac screen in front of her. It was blank except for the counter ticking off time until end of jump in the lower right hand corner. They had no idea whatsoever what they were jumping into, and no matter how much she poked, prodded and ground against it, she couldn't remember. All she had to go on was the dubiously optimistic fact that she must have survived this jump at least one time before. 

Canderous was below her, manning the ventral gun. Even with her memory's spotty return and her abilities showing, he was still the better gunner. Carth was enough of a pilot to keep the Hawk on such an angle that both guns had the best field of fire...and it was just safest to put the best gunner in the ventral gimbal. Dustil had the copilot's position, he was only adequate there, but better than Mission and much more comprehensible to Carth than Zaalbar was. He'd also calmed down a lot, not exactly bubbling with joy at being reunited with his father, but civil enough to convince Sarah to leave the two of them without a chaperone. He was also the third best gunner, leaving his father out, so he'd be on the wingtip guns. Sarah honestly had no clue just how much of a gunner Carth was, it had never come up and probably never would...he flew. He was the best at that, hands down. There was no reason to move him from the pilot's chair. 

Three. Two. One. The Hawk dropped out of jump space, and any doubts that Sarah had were gone in that first split second, when she got a perfect look out of the dorsal gun's canopy. There it is. It's..glorious. Magnificent. 

The Star Forge was poised over the sun, veils of solar matter flowing into it...it was a massive wedge shape this far out, a central sphere with three stabilizing and collector fins holding it secure. It was awesome in the truest sense of the word, and all Sarah wanted to do was stare, admire...this had once been hers. Malak didn't deserve this, she had been the one to lead the way to it, the maps had always answered to her...never to him. He'd stolen it from her. He was fool, it was a dangerous thing indeed. This was why...

“Fighters inbound.” Carth's voice was perfectly level in her earbud. “Sarah, is that...?”

“That's it. Send word if you can.” Even if they couldn't get a message through, the Republic Navy knew where they were. Even if they failed from here on out, they'd succeeded. “We have eyes on the Star Forge.”

And, as he'd noted, fighters inbound. A whole mess of them, multiple wings. “Shit.” She muttered, knowing that her mic would pick the word easily enough. The last time she'd been here, this had been hers. Those damn fighters had been hers...

But now she returned in a single small freighter. It seemed laughable, no...it was laughable. “Message off, Sarah. We can't hold, I'm running for the planet.” There was no jump away from here, she understood that. And he was correct, they had no chance against those fighters. But somehow...

Somehow, she didn't have time to go offline to try to figure out why running for the planet seemed like such a risky idea. She had to stay here, alert, focused and shooting. She expected the fighter wings to try to cut them off, to prevent the nimble and versatile freighter from reaching the planet but no... 

“Range.” Canderous's voice snapped her back. She simply didn't have the luxury of time to try to puzzle it out, even with only one smaller squadron giving chase, they were still outgunned. But not out piloted, Carth turned the freighter into a random, neck jerking evasion path that a single seater interceptor would be proud of. Sarah opened her mind up, reading the path through Carth's mind before he even made the turns, and adapted her shooting reaction to his piloting and knowing just where he was going to take them. Canderous did not have that ability, but his skill level was up to the task. 

“Acquired.” She snapped, they were still pretty far out, but if Canderous thought they were in range, then they were in range. He proved the point a heartbeat later by blowing the leading fighter clean out of space. She followed by peppering the middle of the flight, much more randomly than his pinpoint accuracy, letting the force guide her shots. The wingtip guns remained still, but if Dustil felt they were out of his range, that was fine. They'd gotten this far with only two gunners...

“Contact.” No matter what, the flight was going to get shots off on them. She knew that. Carth had to know it. It just went without saying. She felt a slight shift from Carth, an unfurling...a release...as his latent sensitivity was shaken awake, and she smiled. It was rare, and that made it all the more beautiful. Any doubts that it was there fled as it shone, brilliant and...

The ship shuddered. It wasn't a hit from any of those fighters, it was something deeper. It was something catastrophic, an engine failure? They'd never had the chance to go over it bolt by bolt, and they'd expected it to bring them here? Her screen died. The gimbal lighting died. Everything just died.

“Carth?” No answer. The ship's comms were down. They were in the planet's gravity well, it was drawing them in, but the ship was dead in space. They must have been pulsed, there must have been a cruiser that they'd missed, but how in the hell could they...she...have missed an Interdictor? 

She dropped out of the gimbal, without power to the guns it was useless anyway, and ran towards the cockpit...narrowly missing colliding with Canderous as he popped up out of the ventral turret. “I don't know.” She stated as he fell into step behind her. “Stay here.” She ordered when they hit the main bay. It was lit, but only by emergency lighting. Mission was there with Zaalbar, her eyes wide. The wookiee was silent, watchful, and Sarah didn't have an answer for him at the moment. “You guys need to stay here.” They didn't need to crowd the cockpit. Canderous tended to be quiet, but if Mission descended on the cockpit, she'd rattle what little sanity Carth still had. 

The cockpit was just as dark as the main bay, lit by emergency lighting. It was much calmer than she'd been expecting, Carth rocked back in the pilot's seat, his demeanor a study in forced relaxation. Dustil was staring at his screen as if he expected it to spring to life at any moment, but that was not happening. “Well?” She demanded from the doorway and Carth shrugged, opening his hands in a vague wave. 

“We've hit some kind of planetary defense system. Lost every automated system we've got, and it's not rebooting for me. Atmosphere is too thin to start trying the manuals, so we wait.” He wrinkled his nose, staring at the view-port... “At least we will be dragged in to the point where that's an option.” 

A fully manual landing of a freighter like this was a mind boggling endeavor. If any other person was in that seat, she'd be afraid. But she wasn't. “I have faith in you.” Those weren't just empty words. The Force was with him, it had started to guide him the moment they'd hit the system, and she could still feel it wrapped around him. “We prep for an emergency landing. Readouts on the planet?” Hopefully they had gotten those before they'd lost everything...

“Breathable. Good gravity. Good temperature. It looked good, what little of a look I got of it. It doesn't matter, though. That's where we're going, like it or not.”


	67. Chapter 67

Carth stared at his instrumentation, but it was immune to his hopes and prayers. He'd tried to reboot it twice, to no avail. “Sarah...is T3 up and running?” If it was, they could plug the droid into the systems, bypass them all and give him at least some partial system control. 

“No.” She snapped into her mic pickup, her voice coming straight into his ear. “Down. Everything back here is down. How screwed are we?” 

He took a deep breath, running through the options in his mind yet again, doing his best to ignore the sideways glances that Dustil kept throwing at him. If he stopped to actually consider that Dustil was next to him, that Sarah was in the main bay tearing it apart, he'd lose it. He had to keep his head, keep his cool. It was all up to him this time. “We're upwards of eighty percent screwed.” He snapped back. He had a plan, but it was stupidly risky. It was also all he had to offer. Theoretically, it was possible. Carth had never actually done it before. He'd never met anyone who had. 

“So we're twenty percent not screwed?” 

“Twenty percent not screwed.” He agreed, watching the planet fill his view port. He was about to attempt a landing with no instrumentation, flying by the seat of his pants, with a freighter which had no control surfaces. But she did have two things that might...might...just squeak him through this. He'd have to wait until he hit enough of an atmosphere to even check to see if they worked...he'd never done anything more than realize that they were there. He'd had them refueled on Ord Mantell as simply an expression of his compulsive over preparations. If it was there and required fuel, he'd topped it off. 

“When will we know?” That was her actual voice, she stood behind him. 

“When I get in atmosphere and try to start the push thrust engines.” He had never checked their output, they could be little more than a compliment to the landing thrusters or they could be a full engine array designed to fool the sensor suite of a pursuing vessel. He was praying for the latter...it made sense with a smuggling ship like this one. He'd just never expected to have to rely on it. The Deadweight had had one, just in case, and he'd given himself only the most cursory level of self training in it. 

“I see. Do we have fuel for a push thrust system?” 

“Topped off on Ord Mantell. They were big tanks.” Yes, they had been. Exorbitantly large for simply a stop gap for the landing thrusters. He just had to keep telling himself that. As soon as he hit air, he was going to have engines. No instruments, no control surfaces...but he'd have engines. And a cockpit view. He could do this. He really could. 

“I'll get out of your hair, then.” She breathed, stepping back and he bit his lip. He didn't want her to go, but on the other hand, she had to survive this. And she had the best chance of that farther back, in the main bay. She hadn't said it, he hadn't said it, but it hung there. In fact... 

“I love you. I love you both. And neither one of you are going to be up here for this.” A copilot was simply going to be useless up here for this. “Take him with you, please.” If anybody could save Dustil, it was Sarah. It was Revan. 

“Father, I...” 

“Go with her, Dustil. I've got this. I promise.” He'd made so many promises to Dustil, promises he'd never kept. But if he didn't keep this one, there would be no more promises to make to either one of them. It would all be over. 

“Come with me, Dustil. Your father has got this.” Sarah exuded a quiet, focused confidence, and Carth understood so much in that moment. This was why, how, so many people had followed her into the impossible. It wasn't that she had so much faith in herself, it was that she was willing to give so much of her faith to others. The thought of failing her seemed so terribly wrong. Such a breach of her trust. 

I've got this. He just had to focus. And that would be better done alone in the cockpit, away from distractions. Just him, and the Hawk. He took a deep breath when Dustil unbelted himself from the copilot's seat and stood, following Sarah away into the depths of the ship. Check list. He grimaced at the very idea. Coming in hot meant he'd have to manage a belly landing, gear up and locked. It would shear the ventral gun assembly clean away and breach the hull at the gimbal, no matter what he did or didn't do. 

He reached out, locking the now useless main engine throttles forward and out of his way, and bringing the push thrust throttle up to an accessible grip. This was crazy. Wonderfully crazy. He gripped the throttle, staring through the view port. If he tried to start the engines too early, it would be bad. If he waited too long, it'd be bad. Maybe they taught this kind of stuff in the Naval Academy, but he'd never gone. His training had been militia, then on the job...with Saul. In fact, he'd never even been to Coruscant before. 

The freighter began to shimmy, cutting into the first resistance from the thickening atmosphere and he forced himself to remain still, to remain calm. He would only get one chance at this. 

The shimmying because a bucking, rattling down the chassis of the small freighter, and he fixated on the view port as he listened to his ship. “Come on, baby.” He whispered, repeated into a mumbling mantra under his breath. “Hold on.” 

The bucking became a slamming, the small ship shuddering, weaving and still he didn't move. It still wasn't the right time. It had to be the right time. 

And then, suddenly, it just was. He thumbed off the engine start button cover and sank it down...more than half expecting to get absolutely no response. Instead, he got a coughing hiccup and then suddenly...power. Engines. He had engines. Not just little maneuvering and landing jets, but engines. Real engines. And the next miracle, his screen scrambled to life... someone had tied the essential running systems into the push thrust as an auxiliary power source. Whoever they were, he loved them. He had the barest minimum he needed to get this thing on the ground, mostly intact. It was going to be a hard, hot ditch, but it wasn't impossible anymore. He had never heard a sound nearly as beautiful as those engines going into start up. There was way too much red text on those screens to think this was going to be an easy go, but it was doable. He could do it.

“We're up to only sixty percent screwed, darling.” He breathed into his mic. “And I can deal with sixty percent screwed. Brace for impact.” Everything beneath him was blue...water from horizon to horizon and he grimaced. There had to be someplace to put down at, or their sixty percent screwed went up to a hundred percent. 

“Starboard...twelve degrees.” 

Sarah's voice in his head...pure and clear. He made the adjustment, arguing with the engines until he got the freighter on that path and steadied out. And there, on the horizon, a hazy edge of something that wasn't water. He bled off as much altitude as he could manage over the ocean, measuring what he was coming up on. It would be ugly if he had to abort the landing, to attempt to come around again. He'd lost so many controls. 

“I see it.” He stated, getting his first fairly good at luck at where she'd led him to. The coastline was a heavily eroded cliff sinking into a band of stunningly white sand, and exactly in front of him, a long cut into those cliffs, cushioned deeply with that same sand. He'd have a straight run in, all he had to do was avoid the... He grimaced, fighting back a cringe. A Hammerhead rested in the shallows just off to the port side of his inbound course, her paint still bright enough to show red and white against the bright turquoise of the water. She was too large for this sort of landing, bringing that in without anything must have been a true nightmare. 

He tore his attention from that, measuring his own landing. Even with the cut, there simply wasn't enough room to bring her down without using the still waters of the bay to cut down on his speed and he had no braking other than to cut engine thrust. It was a feat in itself to bring her in low, just skimming the tops of the waves, the skimming becoming more and more forceful as he nudged her deeper and deeper. He wouldn't have much time...these engines could...would...flood out. He needed to end up on the beach, no matter what, or they'd never fly again. There would be no pick up crew coming...

She bellied out, cascading water and murky sand away, grinding and jerking along the sandy floor of the bay and he closed his eyes. It was too late. He was committed to this 'landing'. All he could do was hold the stick straight, bleed off of the throttles and stubbornly ignore the sudden chorus of breech warnings that screamed through the vessel. She was tossed back into the air, and in spite of his own wisdom, he opened his eyes again. They shouldn't be... she hit again, this time well on the dry section of beach, made one threatening groan, and became suddenly still. This had better be high tide...

There was an ominous split through the view port plastisteel directly in front of him and he stared at it, stunned. It widened, spidered out, and a large chunk dropped insultingly into his lap, letting in a billow of warm, dusty, sea scented air which reminded him horribly of Telos. 

He could hear cheering from the back, Mission yipping in relief. “Deploying landing gear.” He muttered, “Everybody stay in their seats, okay?” The gear should be fine, it had been protected in its stanchion and cradle assembly. It would lift the stationary freighter a few meters higher, and reveal the damage...the lost gimbal. And it deployed without a hitch, one solitary comforting faint and blinking green light in a sea of red ones. He powered the entire mess down, unbuckled from his seat and rose on shaking legs. He didn't want to be here anymore. 

“Great job, Flyboy.” Sarah stood in the hatchway, a steadily growing smile on her face. She had that look he loved, he'd done well, he'd exceeded expectations. He was good enough for the role he'd ended up in, a role very very few pilots would ever be good enough for. He was special. Her eyes focused over his shoulder and a flitting frown chased across her features as she measured the damaged view port. “You okay?”

“Yeeeesssss. Physically, I am fine. I might need a moment or two in the refresher...” His guts were swimming and his stomach was trying to crawl up the back of his throat. “But I'm good. Everybody back there okay?” 

“Yep.” She took his hand, and he smiled down at her. “Go.” She whispered, “I'll handle the crew while you take a minute. I judge by the hole in the lower hull and that one in the cockpit that even if the air isn't breathable, it doesn't matter now?”

“Fair observation.” He agreed, moving past her and heading towards the 'fresher. His path took him through the main bay, through the crew. “Give me a second, Mission. I'll be right back out.” He preempted her gushing celebrations, once Mission got started, that was the end of that. He loved her dearly, a strange realization, but he needed a bit of space, right there, right then. 

The refresher was blessedly quiet, calm and still. He washed his face, trying to ignore the faint tremble in his fingers, and then sat in the corner, supported by the two cool metallic walls. He could sense Sarah, working deliberately to calm the crew, and now that he grasped that, he could turn away from it. He wanted to see this through his own measurement, not hers. 

Check list. They were all still alive. He'd pulled off a landing under terrible circumstances, and he was alive. His son was still alive. His beloved. His crew. Nobody seemed to even be injured beyond a bruise or scrape. That was the most important thing. The ship was damaged, but mostly intact. He'd done it. He pulled himself back to his feet and stared into the mirror above the sink, meeting his own eyes. He'd changed so much in such a short amount of time, but he wouldn't do any different if given the choice. What would he be willing to give up? Sarah? Even knowing she was Revan, knowing what she was responsible for...he couldn't imagine not having her in his life. And this path had given him Dustil back. Given him Mission. Hell, even Canderous. It had torn Bastila from him, and that was something he couldn't let go. Somewhere along this path he'd gone from being completely alone, adrift and clinging to the life raft of his 'duty' to this, and this was nothing he was willing to give up. He just needed to stand up and be there. He rinsed the bile from his mouth and stretched the tension from his limbs before stepping back out again. 

“Hey, kiddo. You're okay.” He breathed when Mission caught sight of him, crowing in joy and throwing her arms around him. He returned the embrace, grinning when Canderous slapped him on the shoulder. The moment he disengaged from Mission, Dustil was there, awkward for a second. 

“Dad...” He finally managed, and gave up, embracing Carth as exuberantly as Mission had. “You did it.” 

I did it. Zaalbar growled something that sounded appropriately enthusiastic, clapping Carth on the back. Carth could stand there forever, with his son, but Dustil stepped back after a few moments and Carth didn't fight it. “Where's Sarah?” She was the missing one, she should be here, but she wasn't. 

“Up on the dorsal surface. With a set of range finders.” Canderous replied. “How much damage do you think we've taken?” 

“We've lost the majority of systems. We have a push thrust array with a good amount of fuel remaining, but that's it We've lost the ventral gimbal. And the cockpit central view port.” It was bad. Even if they got the Hawk back up, they'd have to run that whatever the hell that was, and then they'd be right back where they started at... dead in space and under fire. “I'm going to go confer with the boss.” Hopefully, she had something. She had been here before...her memory was spotty but had been pretty useful recently. Once she'd realized who she was, she'd become much more stable. 

She was on the dorsal surface, scanning the horizon and the sky with a set of range finders, her hair shifting in the tropical breeze. “Well?” He asked. 

“They aren't giving chase. I don't see them. I don't feel them. It's like they're willing to let the planet have us. But...” She passed the range finders over her shoulder at him. “...There it is.” 

It was visible to him without them, a bright patch in the sunlit sky, like a huge comet, tail and all. The Star Forge. So close, and so desperately far away. He took the binocs, sighting in on it. Yes, there it was. But his attention was more useful when locked on what rested behind him, the Hammerhead in the shallows. He turned the lenses towards it. It looked good. Almost intact, what had looked like damage now proved to be animal and plant contamination. 

“Do you know what she is?” He asked. How had she made it all of the way out here? She had to have come with Revan...with Malak. She hadn't been here long. She was definitely a Hammerhead, the same as Endar Spire. 

“That's Testament. Our first flagship. I don't remember why she's down, but she obviously is.” 

“She looks good. Salvageable.” And if she was salvageable, then there was probably enough on her to repair the Hawk. She should have a bay filled with what he needed.


	68. Chapter 68

“This place feels like Korriban, only...” Dustil shrugged and Sarah glanced at him. His eyes were locked on a thrilled Mission, who was experiencing trees, sand, and surf for the first time and perhaps showing a little too much skin while she did it. But it was a beautiful world, a travesty considering what it had spawned. 

“More alive and on a much deeper scale.” Where Korriban was dusty, what little life remained there eking out a parched existence, Lehon exploded with life. All fed on the dark side, brilliantly concealed under emerald growth, sterling beaches and vibrant blue skies and seas. It was a paradise with a dark underbelly. “More like Kashyyyk.” He had probably never been there, but the point was still valid. This was more than Kashyyyk, this was the source, the cradle of the Builders' society. The center of their power. 

“If you say so, master.” His eyes slid to Zaalbar, watching over Mission. “Does that make the wookiees suspect? If their whole homeworld has been corrupted by this...?” He waved his hand. It was supposed to be a vague motion, encompassing the beach, but his innate gift ended with his fingers pointing unerringly at the main wellspring of it within range. The Temple...

“It is an interesting question. They don't seem to be. Maybe later, when there is time to look into it, we can.” If they ever made it off of this world, that was. If they could make it to the Star Forge. If they could defeat Malak. So many ifs. Had she been this doubtful during the War? At least then, she'd never been this lacking in support. Every person she had that would come after her was already here. Even Bastila...she could sense her. 

It had been one thing to take an army, a navy, and a group of Jedi against the Mandalorians. It was altogether different here and now. “How long until the Navy could move on that message, if they do move on it?” She yelled up at the ship she was shading under. Carth appeared in the hole where the gimbal had been, hanging upside down, his lengthening hair swaying. 

“Ahhhh... Dodonna gets the message. Confirms the message. Runs the message by the SIS. They run it by the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. They debate it. They get back to the SIS and say it's probably legit. Dodonna informs the Admiralty. They debate it. They gather a fleet without pulling too much from any one point. We have a week. Maybe two.” He sighed. “Before we have company on this lovely vacation world.” 

That was more time than she'd been afraid of, and for once, she gave a heartfelt thanks for bureaucracy in motion...or lack thereof. “So we have about a week to repair the ship and turn off the planetary defenses before any Republic fleet will probably reach us? 

“Ah...yeah...you think you can turn them off?”

“Yes.” There had been a time when she had. Between Testament and the first contact team's crash and when they had achieved full control of the Star Forge, she'd had to turn them off. And later, she'd turned them back on. “How bad is it?”

He dropped from the hole to land beside her. “The gimbal's a complete loss.” He sighed, sitting on her side opposite to Dustil. “Your Hammerhead there won't have a replacement, we just need to patch the hole and go without ventral guns.” He shrugged. “She'll have plenty of transparisteel sections to cut a new central view port. Plenty of hull patch kits. She should also have a shielded bay section with replacement avionics and system cards. Even if those don't fit...exactly...with Mission's help I can probably convince them to work. Three, four days if they're where they're supposed to be. If not...” He shrugged. “We retire on a beautiful tropical beach for the rest of our lives.”

Not an option. “They'll be there.” They had to be. Eventually Malak would sense her. Bastila probably already had, but she felt no threat from that quarter. Bastila was still holding on. “But it will be dark soon. It gets dark here fast. I don't want to try that swim and that climb in less than adequate light.” Even with a lightsaber to clear the way, it would be a dangerous climb around, over and through the shattered impact area of a cruiser. She'd probably be okay, but she wasn't willing to risk Carth. And he should go...he knew what he was looking for and where it should be. He was intimately familiar with the Hammerhead class. Even though she had 'commanded' her fair share of them, including Testament, her command had been hands off of the actual vessel. She had been a Jedi turned General, at no point had she ever been a ship's captain. She'd let the professionals handle the ship...she'd merely told them where it should go. 

“Agreed.” He stretched out in the shadow of the ship, pillowing his head on her lap. “Been a rough day.” 

That it had been, especially on him. “Shhhhh.” She soothed, stroking the hair off of his forehead. Sleep. 

He'd been reaching the point when he could turn away from her suggestions, fight against them if he wanted to, but he obviously didn't at that moment. He dropped into an immediate sleep, his breathing smoothing out, limp against her. 

“He let you do that.” Dustil chuckled and she nodded. 

“He did. He's tired. Unless I'm really determined, he can overcome my suggestions if he really wants to. He did it earlier today. He is force aware.” And probably the source of at least part of Dustil's gift. She knew nothing of Carth's late wife, he did not speak of her often at all, and she'd never asked him to. And it would be equally insensitive to ask Dustil...

“No.” He answered quickly. “She wasn't. At least not that I noticed. I'd heard the rumors that he was, that nobody could fly like he does without it, but she probably wasn't.” He silenced, staring at the ocean, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “She was pretty. Very pretty.” 

Sarah sighed. Of course she had been, Carth deliberately avoided mentioning it, but actually hearing it did not surprise her. And it shouldn't bother her, but it did. Slightly. No, slightly more than slightly. She had been born an instrument of the Force, great and talented. Her appearance shouldn't matter, and it was not a discussion she was in the mood to have...especially with an apprentice. A new apprentice. Morgana Onasi was dead, gone. Sarah was the one sitting next to her son, with her husband's head cradled in her lap. It was beyond foolish to try to compare herself to a dead woman. She couldn't win, and she knew she didn't really want to. 

“She's been gone a long time. How long have you two been together? I mean...how? You're Revan. My dad would never.”

My dad would never choose Revan. But Darth Revan had died on the bridge of Coruscate just as surely as if she'd been left to bleed out. Whatever had made Sarah that remained stubbornly hidden from her memories. While the rest of her programming had collapsed, that part remained firm. She was not Revan. She was not Amasri. She was Sarah.

“Says the young Sith.” Carth's willingness to accept her in spite of her flaws went for Dustil as well. They couldn't just wipe away his years at Korriban, nor would she want to. 

“Your point is taken, master. What now?” 

“Tomorrow your father and I board Testament for salvage.” It was not something she was looking forward to. The ship whispered secrets, knowledge and a past into the wind. It remembered when Malak had been Alek. When she'd been Amasri. It had been along for it all, and now it waited for her to step on its decks again. 

Dustil stared out at the beach, through Mission, towards Testament resting in the shallows. “Get some rest, then. Your Mandalorian and I will keep watch tonight. There are things here that I don't like the feel of.” 

Indeed. 

 

She spent that night asleep under the Hawk's belly, next to Carth, watched over by people she trusted with that job. It was still dark when she opened her eyes, but there was the dimmest hint of light low on the horizon. Early morning, with Zaalbar on watch, Canderous dozing, and Dustil asleep. Good, good. Carth was also only lightly asleep, lying on his back next to her. 

She stood, stretched and walked to Zaalbar. The wookiee sat with his back to the freighter, his eyes locked on the display of the Star Forge hanging low in the sky over that brightening horizon. It should have been beautiful, and on some level, it was. 

“It is a dark thing.” He growled at her and she made a noise in agreement. It was. “We are here to destroy it?” 

Part of her soul cried at the very idea. Destroy it? But... “Hopefully.” It had to be destroyed. She knew that. She'd run from it before, but when? Why? She'd been Darth Revan, why had she fled this? And her flight from it had given Malak the room to gain control of it... Or for it to gain control of him. And better him than me. “Anything give us too much attention on your watch?”

“There are things moving, but they stayed away. Will you be taking Mission today?” 

“No. Only Carth.” The fewer, the better. While she believed that Mission could get in and out of everything with an electronic system... Testament was literally dead in the water. The best slicing kit was the lightsaber at Sarah's side, and she was the best slicer with it. Mission would just be something else that Sarah needed to keep an eye on. Out here, he could do what he did best, keeping her safe and out of trouble. She was still vital, but today, she could wade around in the surf and make eyes at Dustil. 

“Good.” 

Yes, it was good. They'd keep an eye on the invaluable Hawk, keep away whatever it was that was out there, while she and Carth went salvaging. She climbed back into the Hawk, starting breakfast and changing into her racing gear. It would take a drenching better, and clung tightly to her, all the better to avoid being hung up or snagged on debris. 

“I smell caf...oh, nice.” Carth ambled into the main bay, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Shades of Taris. Always a favorite.” He smiled when she offered him a steaming cupful. 

“Glad you like it.” 

They ate in companionable silence, standing almost close enough to touch, before he shucked his jacket, hanging it from a hook on the wall. “From what I see about how she's lying in the water, we should be able to access most of her entry points. The bay I need is in the port midsection.” 

“Just aft of the main officers' quarters?” Just aft of where her quarters and Alek's quarters should have been...and had been, before they had upgraded from Testament to their respective flagships. Before they had started to break...

“Yup.” 

She nodded, watching him get ready. He picked up lights, rebreathers, and tools, and packed them into a waterproof duffel, working with a cautious focus. He probably had a better idea of what it was going to take to get into Testament without cutting her open with the tried and true Jedi lockpick than she did. That was always an option, but the idea of damaging Testament anymore than she'd already been seemed like an insult to something she had once prized, once respected. My ship. My home. I trusted her to bring me here. Coruscate had not been an option to try to run the field with, incapable of atmospheric flight, landing and take off, so she'd made the decision to make the attempt with Testament instead. It had obviously not gone well at all. “I think I've got everything.” He finally said after a long moment of silence. “Let's go get this done.” 

Dawn was just breaking when they stepped out onto the sand, and it was a truly beautiful sight. In spite of the breath of darkness endemic to their very surroundings, in spite of their predicament, she paused to marvel at the view. The sun, the ocean, the pale swath of the Star Forge...

He stepped up immediately behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder and wrapping an arm around her. “It is amazing.” He breathed into her ear. “No matter what.” 

“Yeah. It is.” And she was going to have to destroy at least a part of it. It had been there for millennia, but the Star Forge had to go. She just had to be strong enough, determined enough, to end it. If I can't have it, nobody can. And I can't have it. It can't have me. “And we've come here to blow it up.”

He chuckled, releasing her and heading off along the beach, parallel to Testament. “You can swim, right?” 

“Yes.” There were plenty of small lakes on Dantooine to teach younglings how to swim, how to dive. It had been a major tool in teaching her force awareness, how to hold her breath and listen to her body. “You?” It really didn't matter if he could, she could get him to Testament intact. 

“Yeah. My house was on the coast...Telos. We swam a lot.” 

She gazed at his back, that was the first time he'd mentioned his home as a simple memory, mostly unclouded by anguish. He'd lost a lot of his nihilistic edge since they'd found Dustil. 

He led the way until they were out of sight of the crew, and then began to undress, packing his clothes in the waterproof bag he was carrying. He waded into the turquoise water, his gaze flicking between the water he stood in, and the ship laid out before him. She could see the images in his head, the layout and blueprints of the Endar Spire, his own passage through his ship, her original inspection on the day he became her captain. “There anything in here I should be worried about?”

She walked up next to him, scanning the water between the shore and the ship. Fish, small fish. Molluscs. Seaweed. Nothing felt even remotely threatening...and it hadn't yesterday when she'd let Mission go wading. “The only thing dangerous here is the wreck.” She said, wading out into the body warm water until she reached the point when it was a struggle to remain standing, rolling up on the balls of her feet, and she began to swim. 

He swam easily, strongly, cutting through the water to reach Testament's side in just a few minutes. His trajectory had been dead on, he paused, treading water just centimeters from a series of rungs leading up to a barely visible hatch. The hull here was intact, the 'hammerhead' of the forward bridge compartments had taken the brunt of the impact, leaving the waist undamaged. “Up we go.” He chuckled, taking hold of the first rung and hefting himself out of the water. He did not climb with nearly the same grace that he swam with, and she watched him warily from the water, ready to catch him with a force grab if he lost his footing. He did not, reaching the hatch safely and tucking himself and the bag onto the small ledge beneath it. Once he was in a safe position, she made the climb, sitting on the opposite side of the ledge while he worked. The view was amazing, superlative...

“It's open.”

...and he worked fast. Beyond the hatch should be a sealed air lock, a secure area for him to get dressed in safely. The hatch opened upwards and a gust of stale air flowed out. This airlock had not been breached in the crash, the crash she did not recall. She knew, like she knew so many other things, that she had been onboard for this crash as well. But she didn't remember a single detail about that day. 

She crawled in, standing on the almost level airlock floor. He followed, grabbing his clothes and a towel out of the bag and dressing quickly, settling his belt around his hips and his low light lenses on his nose. “Out and to the left.” He ordered and she got another flurry of images in her mind...the corridor that should be immediately on the other side as it appeared in his memories; well lit, clean and undamaged. 

The interior airlock door was also intact, and opened with ease. Sarah scrambled to grab the rebreathers as a rank flow of air welled out of the open lock. It smelled of death, fuel and burned out electrical systems...with a strange aftertaste of salt. She handed Carth the first rebreather before she settled the second one over her face. “Ugh.” She muttered. For that to be like that, it meant that the main superstructure of the ship, everything above the water line, was completely intact. The water must be working as a seal for the compartments that were breached. 

“Whoever you had flying this did an amazing job. I hope you know that.” Carth leaned through the lock, shining a light down both directions. “It's solid. Intact. Dry. Dark as hell.” 

Of course it was. The main engine ports were half submerged. There had to be water in the engines, water in the main battery complex. Salt water, at that. By now, even the emergency batteries had to be drained. “I don't sense anything...alive.”

He gave her a long stare, his hand dropping to his blaster. “Alive?” He repeated warily. “I mean, sure...the crew left here would be dead. But that goes without saying. And you said.”

It was difficult to describe what she felt. Nothing alive was the most comprehensible, translatable way to attempt it. But it was most certainly not empty. “It feels haunted.” She settled on after a long pause. “By the living. By me. By...Alek. By what, who, we were...but are no more.” There was so much force power here that it had sealed in so many memories that the ship held within it. Then it had fed them, powered them, cultivated them. “You probably won't notice any manifestations of it.” Hopefully, but he was force aware. There was the odd chance he might catch something out of the corner of his eye, on the edge of his hearing. 

“You and Alek were...” His voice faded off and she paused. 

“Alek is as dead as Morgana. His body just hasn't figured it out yet.” The Star Forge was feeding on him as much as he fed on it. 

“But you were...” She recognized stubborn insistence when she heard it. And she needed to accept it herself, to say it aloud. 

“Alek and I were lovers, yes.” The words came easier than she thought they would. “But I really consider a concerted attempt to kill me to be the end of that.” The attempted joke fell flat, she didn't need to see Carth's face well to feel his rejection of it. “Carth. That's over. He's not Alek anymore.” She might have made steps to reclaim herself, but Alek had not. He had fallen into an irretrievable place. She knew it. She understood it. 

“I get that. But can you kill him? I mean...” He shrugged and she understood. Once Carth loved, he loved completely. The idea of putting him into a position where he would be forced to destroy something, someone, that he cared for was a terrible thought. 

“I do not remember.” And for once, that was a blessing...perhaps the only true gift in all of this. She knew, but she did not remember. Carth was the only man she truly had a solid, real connection to. He was the one who was going to bring her through this, her pillar while she killed her own ghosts and demons. “You are my anchor.” 

His exhale was eeriely amplified behind his mask, but his touch on her shoulder was comforting. Malak just had to go away. She would, could, stand against him to protect Carth. To keep Dustil and the others safe. And to recover Bastila.


	69. Chapter 69

“Alek and I were lovers, yes.” Although it was something that Carth had already suspected, it was still surprising to hear her confirm it. And to confirm it so matter-of-factly, but then again, why wouldn't she? He understood that it had been forbidden under the Order's rules, but he wasn't a Jedi to try to hold her to those. Her very relationship with him was a violation of those rules. And he remembered Alek from before, he'd been a strong, kind, honorable man. Nothing to be ashamed of. His fall had been no different than Sarah's, except she'd been yanked away from it and he'd been left in it. Was Alek redeemable? Could they do the same with him that had been with her? 

“No.” She pushed the last tool into the bag and zipped it closed, handing it back to him. “He can't be.” Her voice was edged in steel and he considered it, considered her. She'd already tried to work it out. She'd already tried to find that end in this mess. It wasn't something she discounted lightly. “The Star Forge is more than just a factory. It is an instrument of the force, of the dark side. I...I must have realized it at some point because I fled from it. Malak did not. I let him have it. And I knew when I did so that it would tear him apart, and it has been doing so since then. Little bit by little bit. It's gone too far, Carth.” 

“I'm sorry.” He'd been so focused on what needed to be done that he'd given precious little thought to what they were actually doing. He hadn't known Alek well, but this had set Sarah up against someone she had once been devoted to. Someone she'd once loved. 

“I got him into this.” Her voice broke and he gathered her into an embrace. “I just don't remember. How? Why? What? He was better than I was, a better person. But I'm not allowed to remember that. What if I do it again? With you?” 

“I'm not Alek. I'm not even close to being a Jedi, Sarah.” While that meant he could never be exactly what Alek had been in her life, that he would never understand what it was like to be a Jedi, to fight heel to heel with her, armed with a lightsaber, it did protect him from their less wonderful issues. He simply couldn't fall as deeply as Alek had, he wasn't powerful enough. He was safe in that way. “And I'm with you the whole way.” She had to do this. They'd gotten in too deeply to turn back now. “We go get what we need and we get out of here.” Hopefully, what they needed was actually here. He just had to get the cards and get her out of what he now understood was a haunted place to her. It didn't help that the entire vessel was dark, silent, eerie, the all too perfect backdrop for this. “Okay, babe?” He rested his hand on her head, giving her hair a quick ruffle. Her face was covered by her rebreather and it was the best he could do. 

“Okay, babe.” She repeated. She sounded mostly convinced, which was as much as he could hope for. Just a little bit further. They'd already come so far. The only way out was through the other side. And to get there, he needed the cards that should be stored in Testament's shielded storage bay. Should be. Had to be. He pushed the very idea that they might not be out of his mind, shut the door on the dubious whispers, hopefully hiding them from her. Testament had not been Revan's flagship when she'd been chosen for her fatal last mission. She'd been replaced, supplanted by the greater Interdictors favored by Revan and Malak...Coruscate and Leviathan. She'd been last decade's model, a workhorse that had already been put through the majority of the Mandalorian War before she'd gone on to wherever Revan, Malak and Karath had vanished to. Why fully stock it on this run? The only bright spot he could see was that there seemed to have been no attempt to get her spaceworthy again. She had been abandoned right where she had crashed. 

He worked his way forward, cautiously minding his footing and his path. It was more confusing than he thought it could be, he knew this class of ship backwards and forwards, but he'd never dealt with one in complete and total darkness. Emergency lighting, yes. The inside of a rancor's stomach black...no. It was incredibly disorientating...

She touched him, just a flicker of pressure on his arm, and his direction sense sorted itself out immediately. “Thanks.” He muttered, striding into the darkness. Ah, he knew this corridor, his cabin should be that way...no, her cabin. Which meant that the bay that they were looking for was that way. He walked towards it and hit the entry button, not surprised when he got no response. Utterly no power meant no power, none of these secured interior doors were just going to open for him. 

He rested the bag on the decking, digging through its contents while Sarah held a light steady for him. He'd come prepared for this, every pilot had received basic salvage and recovery protocols, and it was quick going to plug in the portable auxiliary battery to the door. He pressed the button again, frowning when the brightening screen asked for his biometric signature. Well, even if it did not recognize him, it had to recognize her...recognize Amasri Idarn.

 

She chuckled behind him and he slid away to give her access. She repeated the process, smiling when it came up with and the door slid open, revealing darkness only faintly pierced by her light. 

“Yeah, yeah, its database is old.” He had not been a lieutenant since the War had ended. Once the Revanchist fleets had vanished, taking so much of the Navy's command structure with them, his promotion to captain had been a foregone conclusion. They'd had to fill that vacuum and fill it quickly. 

“Yeah, well, you're no more a lieutenant now than I am a general. But it all works, we're in.”

Yes, they were. And he was heartened to see a packed hold, but boxes didn't necessarily mean that they were the right boxes. “We're in another one of those horror vid scenarios.” He joked, heading towards the shielded compartment that should hold what they were looking for. 

“Yup. And did just fine with the ones that came before.” 

That was most certainly true. “You're going to need to get this open as well.” The compartment was still locked down. Was that good? She coaxed the door open to reveal insulated box piled perfectly on top of insulated box. His hands shook when he pulled one down, thumbing it open. The uncertain light played over a precisely ordered row of sealed, new cards to replace the fried ones on the Hawk. They were even the right size... He let his anxiously held breath loose, relaxing. “It's good.” He said, knowing that she'd probably already read him and had known the moment he had. Or she'd recognized them herself and didn't need his input. “We'll take a few of these...in case we can't get that field generator down and have to run the pulse again.” 

“We have to. If the Republic shows up, they can't assault the Star Forge with it up. They'll be easy pickings. I did it before, I can do it again. We just have to be ready to join the fight when it gets started, and not be stuck down here. Even if they bring Jedi...they will have as much luck facing down Malak as Bastila's strike team had trying to face down me. Less, because I won't be in a position to backstab Malak, and the Star Forge will support him. They won't understand it in time. They'll die. And their deaths will feed the Forge and just make Malak more powerful.”

“You make it sound like the Star Forge is aware.” Four boxes should be overkill. And he liked overkill when it came to things like this. He took an empty bag out of the bag and began packing them in. 

“It is. The dark side has worked on it for millennia.” 

He could have done without that knowledge. Every time he got his mind around something here, she hit him with more. “So the Star Forge is aware, and is supporting Malak?” This was beyond his pay grade.

She stilled, and he sensed the 'something smells' expression more than he could see it in the shadows of her barely lit face. “The Star Forge is aware. Who it supports is a question I don't have the answer to at the moment. It could be Malak. It might not be. But I have a much better understanding of how it works and what it is...even without my full memories, than any Jedi could. I have to be there.” 

And that meant he had to be there. He sighed, shouldering the bags and beginning the path to retrace his steps out of there. She followed him until they reached the intersection with the officers' quarters, before she reached out and hooked her fingers in the back of his pants, pulling him to a halt. “I...want to check my cabin. See if I left anything behind. To stand where I stood before...when I was myself.” 

“Of course.” It sounded like a bad idea, but how could he deny it to her? But if she fell apart here, in the silence and the dark, he could hold onto her through it. No prying eyes, no need to be strong for Mission, for Dustil, there would just be him and he had a shoulder to cry on if she needed one. 

It was just a few moments to the correct corridor and he paused in front of what corresponded to his cabin on the Endar Spire, the Old Man's cabin, the largest of them. She would have outranked Testament's captain once she'd taken the ship as her flag. “Yes, that's the one.” She confirmed, and he attached the battery to the door locks. Other than the power flow issue, the cabin was unsecured, it opened to his touch.

It was empty, completely empty, inspection ready and devoid of any personal effects. The closet was empty when she pulled the doors open, and each and every drawer was as well. He could feel her rising frustration, the way she pulled them open and slammed them closed again underlined that. 

“Why?” She snarled, “Why can't I remember? I need to remember. I have to remember.” 

No. If she remembered, he'd lose her. He didn't know how or why he knew that, but he did. And worse, she'd lose herself. That was something he couldn't accept. If he had to, he could let her go. But he would never let her lose herself again. He knew her, he knew she wasn't a monster. Whatever had happened to her to get her to behave like one was a crime, a sin. It was something he would never understand, and he really didn't want to. “No.” He breathed, putting the light on the desk and gathering her up into his arms. “Don't do that to me.” 

“How am I supposed to protect you if I don't remember how to fight Malak?” 

“You've remembered everything you've needed to know so far. I don't think that has been a coincidence. But this is something you don't need to know. I think it is something you can't know.” It had broken her before. It would break her again. “Come here.” He sat down on the bunk, patting the space beside him and she finally came and sat, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “Take a load off.” 

She snorted under her breath but relaxed, letting him maneuver her down onto the bunk, resting alongside him, her head pillowed in his armpit. It was dark, silent, calm and if there were ghosts of another time here, he certainly didn't sense them. All he sensed was her presence, the weight that was her. Not a physical weight, he outweighed her and stood over her, but a spiritual one. But she would always be his Sarah. 

“Onasi to Hawk, go ahead.” He stated and she shifted in his grip, her attention locked on him. It was irresponsible to not check in, to leave the others guessing, worrying about them. Especially if they were taking a much needed mental health break while in the bowels of a derelict.

“I hear you. Trouble?” Dustil's voice was a little scratchy from the superstructure's interference, but not that badly distorted. Good, they still had solid communications. 

“No. Just checking in. We're fine. Taking a little extra time to check the ship out, but we have the cards.” 

“Okay. Good. Mission and I will start pulling the panels.” Dustil's voice betrayed no emotion at that, but Carth grinned in the darkness. Mission was going to be soooooo heartbroken to work alongside him in that task... He broke the connection, resting his hand on her head. 

“Yes, they are adorable.” Sarah chuckled. 

“Just as long as you don't tell me it sticks.” But weirder things had happened. Mission was going to be beautiful, and if he was not committed and not more than twice her age, he'd be looking. 

Sarah paused and he could sense her considering it. “No.” She finally said, snuggling into him. “It will not stick. Mission will remain to you what she is now, always.” 

“So, about that. When we get out of here...” He just had to keep thinking that way. He had to just keep planning for the best. There was no use in planning for the worst, because if that happened, his planning days were over. 

“You want to adopt her. I know. After this is over, we'll get married. We'll adopt Mission and raise her and Dustil together. I promise. And maybe even try for one of our own together.” She suddenly sat up, pushing away from him. “And for us to get there means we have to get out of here. Let's go. We need to have the Hawk ready to go when the Republic Fleets arrive, if they do. And I need to be in a position to take control of the Temple then. I can't turn off the disruptor field until then...otherwise I tip our hand.”

“And if the Fleets don't arrive?” It was a terrible thought, but it was one they had to face. 

“Then I take control of the Temple and wait for them to send a ship or five to investigate. If that happens, though, I will have to do things I do not want to do to wrestle control of the Star Forge away from Malak. Terribly risky things... We pray for the Fleets to arrive instead.” 

“Understood.” To control the Star Forge without the backup of the Republic Fleet would require her to embrace what she had been, Darth Revan. She would have to more of a Darth than Malak once again. And yes, Carth prayed for the Fleets to arrive instead. They had to come. They'd put him and Sarah on this path, hadn't they? But he wasn't sure anymore just who had been pulling all of the strings here. The Navy most certainly had not known that Sarah was Revan, or had they? Did the Jedi Order know, or had the Dantooine Enclave hidden that like they'd hidden so much? Sarah remembered being in a hospital on Coruscant, but had she really? Why hadn't she been cared for in the Temple? Had she even really been on Coruscant at all? He raked his fingers through his hair, it was all so unnerving. This was making him paranoid, making him question the things he'd never needed to question before. It had been easy to trust the Order and to trust the Navy. They'd been the constants in his life when it had fallen apart. At least now he had something else to fill that gap now that he was doubting them. 

“Don't let your head explode there, Flyboy.” She chuckled, picking up one of the bags and the light and heading out into the black corridors. “We got this.”


	70. Chapter 70

Sarah was good at waiting. And time was a luxury they really hadn't had much of on this trip... time to keep working with Dustil, time to repair the Hawk, time to recover from what had come before this. The only issue was to work with Dustil without attracting attention...she could sense that the Star Forge was aware of her return. And of course Bastila had to sense her proximity. She couldn't hide from either of those. But did Malak? If he did, why wasn't he here? 

He feels safe on the Star Forge. Safe from me. 

Probably. She opened her eyes, staring at the sky laid out above her. The breeze blew in, the birds sang and the surf churned. It would be a paradise except for that dark undercurrent and the attention she felt just on the edge of her perceptions. It watched. It waited. It wondered. And it welcomed her back. 

Malak is a fool if he feels safe while in its grasp. He thinks he controls it. He's wrong, it controls him. That was the part he was missing... She trailed her fingertips in the sand, the hammock she rested in swaying languidly when she shifted her weight. The trick to this was to remain open to the Force, to listen to it, to feel through it, but not to speak through it. She had to know when...if...the Fleet was coming. She couldn't move too soon, and moving too late would be a slaughter if the Fleets did come. 

They're coming. 

She flipped the hammock over, falling out of it onto her knees, catching it in her hand before it fell on top of her. Her sudden flurry of motion brought Dustil's attention to her, he was moving before he even knew why. He'd been cautiously speaking with Carth, delicately feeling his way back into a relationship with his father...but now he was moving to flank her, hilt grasped in his hand. “What is it?” He demanded, his dark eyes searching the edges of the sand. 

“The Fleets. They're coming. I sense... No, that's not possible.” That ripple she felt had to be the Republic Fleets. She could feel their approach, their living crews, and she could feel the Jedi Master with them. 

“What isn't?” Now Dustil's gaze was locked on the pristine blue vaulted sky above him. “What's gone wrong now?” 

And he sounded so much like his father in that moment that she wanted to laugh outright, but held it in. That father right there, also staring at the sky, his blaster at the ready. “I sense Master Vandar.” She finally spoke and Carth's expression blurred into puzzlement. 

“He's dead, right? Or did Karath lie to us on Leviathan? The Dantooine masters aren't dead...or aren't all dead?”

“I don't know. All I'm certain of is that I sense Vandar and the Fleet with him.” If the Enclave's masters had survived, then was this still under their control? Vandar knew. He understood. There would be little to explain to bring him up to speed. This was partly his doing. “But they're coming.” And that meant she had to move and move now. “Dustil. Canderous. Kit up, we're headed out. Carth, Mission...last checks on the ship.” She couldn't be trapped here when it all went down. She was the only one who could face Malak on the Star Forge. Vandar couldn't do it. He could not deal with the Forge, he couldn't handle Bastila. Only Sarah could. And only Sarah was permitted to end Malak's life...it was her burden, her duty, her last gift to the man who had once been central to her life. He deserved it and she was going to give it to him. 

“On it.” Carth agreed, striding towards the Hawk to fall into step with Canderous as the Mandalorian headed for his gear. It was time to move. To do. One step closer to the end of all of this. She nodded to Dustil, it was time to get their hands dirty again. One more trial by fire for him before she flung him into the depths of the Star Forge. One more time to take a look at him and the last chance to make that final decision...did she take him, or did she not? 

In the end, you'll have to do this alone. But before then, take all of the help and support you can get. Learn from your previous mistakes.

How was she supposed to learn from her 'previous mistakes' when she wasn't allowed to remember them? 

“What's the matter? You look...and feel...disturbed.” Dustil stood on her left, exactly where he would be if they were in combat. And he was starting to sense her emotions without her pushing them towards him, letting him know them, taste them, to where he could recognize them and know who they came from. He was learning so much, so quickly... but was it enough, quickly enough? 

“The Force tells me I am supposed to learn from my mistakes. But I don't remember making them in the first place. How am I supposed to learn from that?” It was rhetorical, of course. How would Dustil understand what she didn't? Or was that it? Others could know what she wasn't allowed to anymore? They could hold her secrets for her? 

“Ha.” He chuckled. “So it's true that you don't remember being Darth Revan. Interesting. You broke through your programming, but still don't remember your past. So what is holding that away from you? The Enclave's programming? Your injury? The Force? Yourself? What do you actually remember?”

“Very, very little.” Now that she understood that what she had thought that she remembered was false, there was very little that was actually hers. “Just flashes. Like trying to remember a dream that's fading fast. I don't exist.” I'm not real. 

He tilted his head, his expression closed. “You certainly exist to my father.” He finally stated, his voice firm. “He loves you. Which means I have to ask...how much of that is real?” 

“I'd say most of it is. At first, no, but I was in bad shape then. You do desperate things when you're dying and you've got someone struggling to keep you alive.” And she'd done it twice. “I'll do my damnedest to get him out of this, Dustil.” 

“Out of this...” He waved randomly at the beach, flicking his fingers up towards the bright light of the Star Forge. “Or this?” He brought his fingers down to point at her. “I support one. But the other one will tear him apart, and do you no good either. If you make it out of here, you're going to need him. And he needs you.” 

“I know. When this is over, I'm done being Revan. In any way.” That would feel better if it felt right, but it simply felt empty. She wasn't allowed to shed that identity. Somehow it was still all a part of her, just compartmentalized and held away from her. Waiting, waiting for later. What could be coming later that she would need that...more than needing it now? 

So many questions, so few answers. She sighed, smiling when Canderous reappeared out of the freighter, in full gear. “Let's go knock heads.” It was easier when she was, when she could just let her instincts rise and flow with them. 

“As you wish, master.” Again, Dustil managed that with a graceful mix of deadly seriousness and gentle joke. “Whose heads will we be knocking?” 

“Sith.” Thankfully the academy at Korriban taught its students that other students were a threat and a challenge and she didn't feel the need to convince him to go in after a whole bunch of Sith studying here, at Lehon's Temple. “And probably droids.” 

“Sith and droids, eh?” Canderous had come within earshot. “Gotcha. If we run into both, I'll hit the droids. You two hit the force users.” 

And that definitely sounded like a plan. She almost felt sorry for the Temple... almost. She had been the one to open it in the first place, who were they to try to deny it to her? They were interlopers. Thieves. They denied her what was rightfully hers. All of this was hers. Not Malak's. 

And it was time to go get it back, even if just for a little while. Otherwise the incoming Fleets were doomed, they would have led them to their deaths. The Republic couldn't lose entire Fleets here and still recover, especially without Bastila. If Sarah couldn't bring the field down, it all ended here and now and that would take all of her options with it. 

She began the climb towards the Temple, flanked by Dustil and Canderous. The sandy path rose into the hills and she noted large prints, damaged palm trees. Rancor. What an interesting thing to import to Lehon, around the vicinity of a dark sided Temple. Tarentatek. There was no other reason for it. She knelt, spreading her hand in one of the tracks thoughtfully. 

“Which is it?” Dustil asked and she stood, dusting her hand off on her thigh. 

“That particular one is still a rancor.” The Sith had the raw materials, the source species and an unlimited well of dark side power, but did they have an alchemist up to the task? “We've been here for days. If there were tarentatek loose here, we'd have seen them by now.” But they could be contained in the Temple. Just more things to kill if there were, she'd seen Dustil take them on without a pause or bobble, and she honestly had more faith in Canderous's ability to kill them than she had in Carth's...and Carth had done just fine. “I'm guessing they haven't found an alchemist able to create them. Yet.” 

“There's no one that I know of on Korriban who even seems close to being capable of such a feat. The whispers at the Academy pointed at you as being capable of that, master.” Dustil's gaze was measuring, but she shook her head. She didn't even have to try and push for that answer to come.

“I am no alchemist. I am no Sith sorcerer.” She had spent her adulthood doing one thing and one thing only, going to war, not delving into the deep arts of the dark side. “I am a general...” They reached the top of the path and looked out over the Temple beneath them. 

It was majestic, just like so many other things that the Builders created. Everything that they touched seemed to vibrate with an undeniable darkness. Brilliant. Mad. Arrogant. Dismissive. Corrupt. Wasted. And those words resonated deeply within her. I was all of those things. I... 

“Hey!” It was difficult to tell who moved first, who moved the quickest, but a split moment later she was dangling from Canderous's grip on her left arm and Dustil's on her right arm. “You okay?” Dustil demanded, his brows drawn together tightly. He sounded just like his father, which was probably the reason why Canderous laughed outright, the sound muffled and echoing under his helmet. “I mean, um...master?” 

“I'm fine. I just...hit the wall.” No, she hadn't hit any wall, she'd looked into a mirror. And she didn't like what she'd seen there. “It happens sometimes.” 

“Right.” He didn't sound convinced, but then he wasn't privy to so many things. Canderous had seen her buckle before, it was nothing new to him. “So, we just walk right in? Can't you sense the ritual?” 

What ritual? Sarah focused on the temple laid out in front of her. Oh, that ritual. 

“You mean the ritual to keep everybody but me and those with me from using the main door?” That must be a real pain in the ass to the Sith living and studying here. It didn't keep them out, or in, but it did mean that they had to come and go by shuttle. “You would have thought that they'd have worked that one out by now. And no, I don't remember why it's there.” It was definitely a ritual beyond her abilities, she had not cast it. She wouldn't even know where to begin. It wasn't Sith, either...at least not... 

“Don't.” Canderous had not let go of her yet, and seemed quite unwilling to. “Not here. Not now.” 

Great. Now instead of her Jedi padawan babysitter, she had a Mandalorian veteran babysitter. But he was correct. This always happened when she wasn't able to run with it. And she had few doubts that was purposeful. Exactly as intended. She was only allowed to remember, to know, enough to get the job done. Hopefully. She rested her fingertips on the back of Canderous's gauntleted hand, giving him a slight smile. “I'm fine, ori'vod.” 

“Good. Go kill shit. That is why you brought me.” 

“Indeed.” 

The good thing about a door that didn't open was that no one was expecting people to come through it. It really was as simple as walking up to it and opening it. Beyond, a hauntingly familiar expanse, a place she'd seen in multiple dreams forged from snatched memories. Home. No, she'd never really had one of those, but this was someplace where she'd felt comfortable. Secure. Involved. In control. 

The wrong sort of in control. By then, you were already in trouble. You were in control of them, here, but you'd lost control of yourself. At least now, although she was off balance, reaching for herself and far from secure, she was in a better place than she had been back then. She just had to keep telling herself that. It was the truth, she knew it. 

“Droids.” Dustil snapped, rousting her out of her momentary reverie. “We doing this quietly?”

“No. We aren't.” Malak would know they were here the moment they brought the field down, but if she'd timed it correctly, he'd have no time to move against her. If she hadn't, then it wouldn't matter how much noise they made here, how many reports came in. “Light 'em up.” 

“As you wish, master.” He jumped into a sprint, the Mandalorian watching over his progress down his sights. Watch him, get his measure. He's going in with us. 

She gave chase, charging down the middle of the foyer. Four droids, no problem. There would be more, so she couldn't just sit back and let him do all of the work. Complacency was a terrible thing, especially since all of the droids in the Temple had just gone on alert status. 

“Hah!” Canderous bellowed, “Keep left. I'll clear right. We have more incoming.” 

Of course they did. And they'd better knock them down before they had more, and before they had living, breathing Sith bearing down on them.


	71. Chapter 71

The security droids were simply an appetizer, she understood their programming, their strengths, and each was the same the one that came before it. They were great training tools, dangerous enough to keep Dustil on guard, strong enough to make him reach, but not truly a threat. Canderous had an uncanny ability to back off when he wasn't needed, but was quick to throw in when the numbers of droids hit the worrisome level...but he was smart enough to figure out what she was doing here with the younger Onasi. Teaching a new warrior was always an honor and a duty. His people had not become a force in the galaxy by shirking on the training of their young ones. 

The air hung thick with the stench of destroyed machinery, ozone and fried electronics, when she sensed the first stirrings of a living, breathing force adept standing on the steps in front of her. He, and it was male, clung to the shadows...he'd been watching, measuring, judging their progress. 

“Lord Revan.” He greeted into the silence after Dustil chewed the last droid up, pieces falling to the tiled floor in a metallic clatter. How had he recognized her so precisely? This was not one of a handful of people who should be able to recognize her without the mask...wherever that was. “So it is true. You live. You have defeated death itself.” 

Well, that sounded promising. Not even Malak could claim to have 'defeated death itself'. “That's right.” 

The dark form paused, and for the life of her, she sensed no threat, just curiosity. And... relief? “And you come equipped with a new apprentice.”

“Obviously.” There had been no attempt to mask Dustil's role in all of this. Of course, she hadn't been expecting to be recognized...which would then mean he would be placed as Darth Revan's new apprentice. She'd been lax somehow. 

The man stepped out into the light and Sarah was certain that she did not know this man. She might have met him once or twice before, but that was it. “And what can we do for you, milord?”

What? This was not how she'd seen this going, at all. It was a trap. A trick. “I need the disruptor field brought down on my command.” 

“You come to take the Star Forge back from Lord Malak? You defeat the death he meant to give you, and return to us?” 

“I come to haunt Malak.” Why was he talking? Was he buying time? Stalling for something? Trying to corner her? “The coward who would not face me.” 

“And you will face him?” The man's pale, pale eyes were intently fixed on her face. “Remove him from the Forge? We followed you here, not him. Have you come to lead us out of here? There was a way with you...there is no path under him. If he ever knew what it was, he has let it go.” 

And I don't remember what it was. Or do I? But this is one of my people. I took responsibility for them and they followed me into hell. And here he is, still looking to me for the path forward. Do I have that? 

She had to. She'd brought the Ebon Hawk and her crew here, under the belief that she had that path. She'd brought everybody she cared about anymore here...on that path, just like she'd brought this man here...on that path. “I need to bring down the field.” Too many questions, too much unknown. She was responsible for this mess. 

“You know where the terminal is. No one here will stand in your way, milord. When I recognized you, I took care of any issues which might have hindered you. The Temple is yours.” 

“Thank you.” She'd never stopped to consider that there might be people in Malak's organization who were still loyal to her. She hadn't been expecting to be recognized at all. “How did you know me?” 

He laughed, shook his head, and turned to stride into the depths of the Temple. “Simple, milord. Malak told us you were alive. And then he sent your image to us so that we could keep an eye out for you. So I did. Welcome back, Lord Revan.” 

Welcome back. Nothing could ever just be easy, could it? She glanced behind her but Canderous was a rock and Dustil seemed less than surprised as well. “Let's go.” She sighed, striding towards the archway that seemed to be the correct way to go. But this might just be a blessing, she could sense Vandar much more strongly now. They were close. Very close, and that meant she was running out of time. 

There was a trail of black and gray clad corpses in the gallery, and they were still warm. They'd been alive less than an hour before, but they'd been dead before she'd passed into the Temple. He knew I was coming. Was it a trap? Well, even if it was, she had no time left to try to skirt it. It was go time. 

She ran down the gallery, hopping over corpses as she went, keeping close attention on Dustil. Canderous would accept a heap of dead Sith apprentices with equanimity, the recent Sith apprentice might...not. But if they bothered Dustil, he did a fine job of hiding it from her, matching her pace, three steps behind her and the reach of her light saber and his off to her side. He felt coiled, released, finally free to shine, to grow, to be himself. 

Down. Must go down. 

“Sarah? How are we doing?” Carth's voice was level, clear through her earbud. “We are good on this end. Prepped to fly on your word.” 

“Ahead of schedule on this end, but they're close. I should have had...” What? More warning? More of a hint? But it was difficult to read through this place. It swathed her in dark side power and the incessant murmurings from the smug Star Forge. It was jamming so many of her frequencies with static and plans.

“You can sense fleets in hyperspace and you think you should have had more warning than the half an hour you've had so far.” His reply was droll and Dustil snorted in agreement and amusement. They were ganging up on her and it was delightful. “And they're still not here yet.” 

“Uh huh.” It didn't matter, they were coming. She jumped down the first set of stairs she came to, only to be faced with another security droid. It ignored her and she was more than happy to ignore it. “When they get here, you do the talking...especially if it's your admiral. If it's Vandar, well, he knows you as well.” She wasn't certain which would be worse, this fleet admiral recognizing her...or not recognizing her. They couldn't argue over who was in charge and who was a war criminal now. 

I have to be the one to face Malak. I have to be the one to get to Bastila first. 

Was it hubris to think she was the only one who had a chance? 

Hubris? Is it hubris to accept who and what you are? Accept being Revan? Because only Revan can do this. And you are Revan. You've run out of time to convince yourself of that, be it. Deal with the consequences later, because it's the only way there will be a later. Too many people you care about hang in the balance, and you are one of them.

The terminal sat in a large, shadowy room, flanked by obelisks, and she moved straight to it, throwing caution to the wind. No time. No time. The screen flashed to life the moment she rested her fingers on the interface. Why remove all of the access codes of a dead woman? She'd had so many, she'd been so paranoid, cautious...all for good reason. 

Command override code, her fingers flowed over the interface without pause for thought. This was hers. It knew it. She knew it. It's down. And it needs to stay down. Forever. There was no coming back. No maybes. No doubts. No holding things for later. She ignited her lightsaber and sliced the blade through the terminal, once, twice, three times...destroying it. Now it was down, and there was no way to bring it back online remotely. “The dish is on the roof.” It needed to go, too. It all just needed to go. At least if the Fleets jumped in now, they had somewhat of a chance. As much chance as they were going to get until she could get to Bastila...

Canderous grunted in answer, racking a round into his grenade launcher. “Then we blow shit up. That I can do.” Yes. That he could do and do it well. She led the way, retracing steps to the gallery, and then up from there, emerging out into the beautiful day. The view was stunning, and if she'd had the time, she would have savored it. 

“Blow shit up.” She snapped, and Canderous leveled his weapon at the dish array. It exploded a moment later, brilliantly lighting the sky in flames. It would take at least a week to repair it, for anybody to bring the disruptor field up again. And only the victor was going to have a week, by then, it would all be over. 

“What was that? I got a hit on the sensors...” Carth sputtered into her ear. “Sarah?”

“I figured I might as well just make getting the field generators back online a repair and time heavy option...if it's even possible. But it's done, we're on our way back now.” It was good when things started to click into place like this, it allowed her to slide into herself and simply react. No questions, just actions. 

There was a long moment of silence, she sensed Carth's attention locked elsewhere and then his voice, focused on Mission. “Yes, I see them. No, don't answer them. We'll get Sarah and the team and then reply to them. Sarah, you hear that?”

“I heard your part. You're coming here?” If available time was compressing then it made sense that he did a pick up here...the roof was broad and designed for shuttle landing. If they left, he would have to wait until they made the beach again, more than thirty minutes away. 

“Is it clear? The lead elements of the Fleet have arrived. They're already engaging the Sith fleet, trying to punch through to the Star Forge.”

And they didn't have a chance in hell of getting that done. They were as good as dead already. “It's clear. Just follow the smoke and land on the shuttle pad next it. It's really our fleet?” 

“Yes. On my way. I want you here when I contact them. Just in case I need you.” Of course. He could deal with the Admiral, deal with the Navy protocol, but he'd want her to deal with Master Vandar, to make the arrangements with the Jedi with the fleet, if there were any. 

There are. Now that the Fleet was materializing, she could sense them. Vandar had brought friends, good, because he was going to need them. She was going to need them... 

“Your fleet has arrived, milord?” 

The man was sneaky. She hadn't sensed his approach at all, but then she'd been sensing for the Republic Fleet, its Jedi contingent. It didn't matter, sloppy like that got one killed. “Yes...?” And she still didn't even have a name for him yet. 

“Lord Raskas. It has been awhile, milord. I understand that I may not have left much of an impression on you.” His pale eyes flicked over her and the pair with her. “I have been in charge of the Temple here for two years now, because that was the place I was supposed to be. And now I know why.” He glanced at the smoking ruin of the dish array, his expression thoughtful. 

Raskas. Raskas. “Raskas Arel?” The name was there, she just had to dig deeply enough. He'd been at Malachor. He'd been with her at Commenor. He looked very different than the young, earnest Jedi that name tried to bring to mind. “From Commenor?” That had been the most recent time he'd actually stood by her side. 

“Raskas Arel. From Commenor. Your orders, milord? If you are assaulting the Star Forge to confront Malak for his treachery, we stand ready to support you.”

Oh, and that just complicated things. Did she trust? Could she trust? 

Again, do not overlook what you have at your disposal. Dustil. Those still loyal to you, even after they thought you were dead. 

“The Star Forge must be destroyed. I was wrong. It is more of a liability than a resource. I am here for it and Malak. If I am successful, neither one will exist at the end of this.” And if you don't agree, I will kill you here and now. 

He chuckled, a slight smile creasing his lips. “It is good to have you returned to us, milord. Malak cannot come close to what you were to us. And right there, with those words, you prove it once again. You admit when you are wrong, and take the steps to make it right. He has ceased to be wrong, even when he is. I will contact those who still look to you, inform them. You will have our support. We will do our best to remove the obstacles we can and get as many of those still loyal to you out of the Star Forge. Now...your ship arrives. Good luck, milord. We stand with you.” 

“Good luck, Raskas. See you on the other side.” If he did not lie, then these were still her people. She still had a responsibility to them. But he was correct, in a nape of the earth approach, skimming the treetops, the Ebon Hawk appeared just ahead of her engine sounds.


	72. Chapter 72

Sarah was onboard the moment that the Hawk touched down and lowered her ramp, striding through the ship. Carth met her in the main bay, leaving the ship to idle smoothly on the shuttle pad, moving straight to the holo communicator base. “The Republic fleet must have gotten that last message I sent. I've been holding a transmission from them since right before you called for a pickup. I'm pretty sure you're going to need to be a part of this discussion.” He sighed, grimaced, and opened the channel. A bright, flickering image of an older woman in an Admiral's uniform appeared and then steadied. 

“This is Admiral Forn Dodonna to the Ebon Hawk, do you read us?” Sarah could sense Carth's immediate recognition of the woman, he knew her well for all of his sudden click into parade rest. He respected her. He was used to working with her. 

“Admiral Dodonna, this is Carth Onasi. We're receiving your transmission.” Yes, they were. And this wasn't going to be good news, Sarah could sense it. She'd been forced to leave Bastila on her own since just before they'd arrived here, the chances of being noticed when they'd been trapped on the planet had been too much to risk. It had just been a handful of days, a week. She'd spent four times that bolstering Bastila, hopefully it had been enough. Or Bastila was playing, waiting for her to come get her, unwilling to tip her hand before everything fell into place. Sarah wasn't sure, and everything she got through the bond was fuzzy, disconcerting, unclear. The Star Forge was throwing off interference, a lot of it. And to see if it was purposeful would mean opening up to it, and Sarah refused to. 

“Carth, I'm glad to see you're still alive. We've begun our assault on the Star Forge but we're taking heavy losses. How did the Sith ever manage to build something of this scope?” The woman's relief was not feigned, and Sarah stepped up beside Carth, weighing the Admiral's response when she would have appeared in the transmission. No recognition, and that went both ways. But someone else there did recognize her... Vandar was with the Admiral. He was here. Of course he was expecting her, they were all here. At the Star Forge, exactly as he'd planned it. 

“The Star Forge wasn't constructed by the Sith, Admiral. We don't have time for me to fully explain, but that space station is far older than you can imagine.” Carth stated, shaking his head. And he was right, all of the details were immaterial at that moment. There wasn't enough time to indulge in them. 

“Maybe we should pull the fleet back and retreat. I don't know if we have the firepower to go up against this alien technology.” Dodonna sighed, and Sarah wanted to reach through the transmission to grab her and shake the silly right out of her. Pull back? Retreat? If the fleets quailed, Sarah had failed. Malak would still stand. All of this would have been for nothing, and worse yet, they'd lost Bastila to him. They would lock themselves into a losing, grinding, bloody war of attrition. She wouldn't play that game. She wouldn't become the target that would leave her. She wouldn't put Carth through that. If you fall, come for me. There would be no need to come for him...he was right there. Dustil was only meters away. The Star Forge was in front of her. If the Republic didn't have the resolve to do this their way, she would be forced to do it her way. She wasn't leaving. 

“You can't do that, Admiral. The Star Forge is a factory of immense power. It's been churning out the capital ships, snub fighters, and assault droids that have powered the Sith war effort. You have to destroy the Star Forge now, or you'll be fighting an unending wave of reinforcements.” Carth gave word to the desperation she felt, hiding it behind an expressionless face. This was a person he knew, he was the better choice to lay the cards down on the table for them. 

“Then I guess we have no choice, but it isn't going to be easy. I can't even get our capital ships into position to start bombarding the Star Forge, the Sith fleet is too well organized. It's like they can guess our every move and counter our every strategy...” Dodonna began, and Sarah frowned. Surely Dodonna had to recognize a Jedi's battle meditation at play? She'd been using it for months but didn't see it when it was turned against her? Or was she just skirting the obvious? Come on, Vandar. Time to step in. I know you're there. And I know you can sense Bastila. I know you see me. 

“That's something I need to discuss with Master Vandar. I know he's there with you now.” Sarah jumped into the discussion, taking the need of a response from Carth. He'd done his job, he'd convinced his Admiral of the dire need to stand here. To stand now. 

“I am here, Sarah.” He stepped into the transmission, staring at her. So many questions, and now she understood why. But he'd just have to keep guessing, she wasn't going to come out and tell him that she knew who she was, that she knew what he'd done. Let him stew. “I sense Bastila's battle meditation coming from the Star Forge.” 

“Yes. We lost her. I need to get on the Star Forge to go get her, to stop her. She has not been held by Malak for long. I can, in the very least, distract her.” And I'm the only one who can, Vandar. You know it. I know it. She knows it. 

He nodded slowly, gazing between her and Dodonna. “If Bastila is using her power to augment the Sith, then Malak's fleet is invincible.” He stated firmly to the Admiral. “We need to stop her. Yes, Sarah, you need to go after Bastila. I will send the squadron of Jedi Knights to help you get a toehold on the station. Their small ships and the Ebon Hawk should be able to fly through the Sith blockade and dock on the Star Forge. They should be able to keep a running distraction with the Sith defenders and give you an opening to get to Bastila. Deal with her and that should allow the Admiral to move her capital ships into position for a final assault on the Star Forge itself.” 

“Understood, Master Vandar.” Good, good. All still on the same page. Sarah could deal with this...

“I hate to ask you this after all you've done, Carth, but the Jedi may need all the help they can get. Will you fly the knight with you to the Star Forge? Get her into the position she needs to be in for this to work?” The Admiral asked and Sarah snorted aloud. The idea that Carth would not be there was inconceivable. The thought that he would not be the one to fly her in was enough to make her rethink the idea of going at all... She still had supporters. She could do this her own way, without the Republic. 

“Don't worry, Admiral. The Ebon Hawk and her crew are gonna see this through to the end.” Carth was so earnest, so filled with resolve. He understood everything that was at stake. He understood more than his Admiral. He even understood more than Vandar did now. He was with Sarah, come what may. 

“And may the force be with you.” Vandar offered and Sarah let the smile that wanted to be free cross her features. When had it not been with her? For good, bad, or indifferent, it had always been there with her. It was why she had risen so high and fallen so far. 

The transmission ended and she nodded at Carth. It was time to get this started. “Let's go.” She meant for it to come out just as strong and filled with resolve as he had managed during his discussion with Dodonna and she was surprised when her voice broke on the last syllable. Things had gone from the future to the now all so suddenly... He simply chuckled in reply, gathering her up into his arms and burying his face in her hair. “You got this, Babe.” He whispered, letting her go a moment later. “I gotta go fly. You go get ready. Get Dustil ready. This is what we came for.” 

Yes, this was indeed what they had come for. Not even she could put it off now. “I couldn't do it without you.” As hard and painful as it had been, he was everything in her life...short as that was. Without him, she would have never made it this far. 

“No. No goodbyes, Sarah. No shit. Not here. Not now.” He dismissed her with a flick of his fingers, moving towards the cockpit. “I owe you a fancy dinner on Coruscant.” He yelled from the pilot's seat. “And you are going to hold me to that, you hear me?”

“I hear you.” 

“I can't hear you!” 

“The hell you can't...my mic is still open.” She muttered, glancing around. Get ready? Get Dustil ready? He made it sound like that was some sort of a chore, something to hold her attention. Canderous was busy, reloading, checking his gear, but she and Dustil would go in with the clothes on their backs and the lightsabers at their sides. The freighter lifted off, the engines catching in that quick snap she had become used to and she felt Carth drop effortlessly back into his force awareness. 

“We're flying into heavy fire and flak. I need you all to sit down and buckle up.” He snapped over the ship's comm and she took the nearest bench seat, buckling up. Dustil took the one immediately next to her, also buckling up and closing his eyes. Canderous merely grunted and grabbed the nearest jump rung. Mission and Zaalbar sat on the bench across the bay, oddly silent. But what was there to say? 

I'm coming, Bastila. I'm coming, Alek. 

The ship began to maneuver, weaving and diving in ways it had never been designed to manage, but they were following a squadron of Jedi piloted single manned fighters through the largest fleet blockade any of them had ever experienced. If Carth wasn't up to that task, this was going to be short. Very short. 

There is no peace. But there was the focus that passion brought when it became louder than anything else around her. That was where she was going to find her 'peace'. Her silence. The ability to sit with Mission's terrified eyes on her and not crack. To be the master that Dustil deserved, that he was going to need. To be the master that Bastila deserved and was going to need. To be the friend that Alek deserved, and was going to get whether he wanted it or not. And to be the General that the Republic deserved, once again...whether they were willing to forgive or not. 

“Through the blockade. Picking up flak.” 

Almost there. She wrapped her fingers around the quick release buckle, seeing Dustil mirror her motion. She had no idea what they were going to dock to. “Stay in the pilot's seat until I give you the clear.” 

“I'm coming with you.” Carth snapped back and she snorted. He was, and he was supposed to, up until a certain point that she was not allowed to see yet. She would face Malak alone. Carth...Carth would just be something that Malak would use against her. Something for her to beat herself silly trying to protect and keep safe. But he still needed to be on the Star Forge. Along for the ride, however short his was fated to be. 

“Yes, darling, you are. I'm worried that with me includes running like hell in the opposite direction if that docking bay is swarming with Sith screaming for my blood.” She wasn't too proud for a tactical withdrawal and another docking attempt elsewhere...

“Gotcha. Coming in now. Looks clear enough.” 

“Good. I need you ready to go as soon as possible.” She unbuckled, heading for the ramp, shadowed by Dustil and Canderous. It was time to go get this done, finally. She smacked the iris controls before the Hawk even touched the bay floor, she needed to see this, feel this, before they were committed. 

Honey, I'm home. 

As promised, the bay was clear. And the Star Forge was silent, watchful. So that was how it was going to play...

Three people ran into the bay, and Sarah identified them immediately as Jedi. Good, good. At least some of their support had landed intact. The two males, one human and one twi'lek, took guard at the door while the third, the female, approached, shouting over the engines. “You're Sarah? You and your team are our main insertion to go in and get Bastila? I was told that you'd trained for this...” Her voice faded off and Sarah could only imagine what she was thinking. Exactly how could Sarah have trained for this? 

“That is correct. Carth, we are go.” The Hawk's engines died and she could sense Carth rushing to get the last of his gear on, his steps growing louder as he came on quickly. Sarah could sense the younger Jedi's anxiety, the woman wanted her to go and go now, but it was simple. She wasn't going without Carth, and he wasn't coming without armor and weapons. The woman could just fret and worry about losing an element of surprise that they probably had never had. Sarah could not hide forever, could not hide from Malak.. the Star Forge, Bastila.


	73. Chapter 73

“We're going to be moving fast.” Sarah stated, gazing at the three Jedi watching them. “Don't try to keep up with us.” A Jedi tail was the last thing she wanted or needed on this. This was personal. This was private. These were just here to get her started on her way, but they played no real part in it all. She was probably going to end up doing things she didn't want to need to explain later. If there was going to be a later. 

“Of course. Good luck and may the force be with you.” The woman stepped back when Carth appeared in armor to step up beside Sarah. 

“And with you.” Getting in was not going to be a problem, everything here wanted to get her deeper in, farther away from retreat and safety. To trap her. To keep her. She nodded sharply to herself, stepping into a long striding walk towards the exit. 

I am coming for you, Bastila. Just as I promised. 

The corridor beyond was filled with noise, conflict, combat, the first of Malak's security forces against the Jedi squadron and Sarah set her shoulders. She couldn't afford to be bogged down here. They just had to get past this, and in a hurry. The most expedient way would be to have Canderous clear the way, but that would harm everything in front of her. Jedi and Malak's people, both, and she still needed the Jedi to run interference and provide a distraction. 

 

'You have returned.'

Ah, so it was finally going to talk, to acknowledge her presence. It was about damned time. It felt a little farther away than it seemed like it should, a little quieter, almost muted. Muzzled? Shackled? Less? Sharing its attention with Malak? Focused on Bastila? 

'Your gift is ready, now that you have finally arrived to claim it.'

Gift? The Star Forge's gifts were all highly suspect. None of them came without a price, a hook in her soul. She began to fight her way into the corridor, heading inexorably towards that voice, that call, shadowed by the men that she'd brought into this with her. 

'He is engaging internal defenses. That can be stopped, if you so desire.'

No. No. No. She was not heading down that path again. Too many people had struggled to get her off of it to have her simply step back onto it again. It could make this all very, very easy. And the cost for that was too much to pay. She glanced over, Carth and Canderous were oblivious, their minds target locked and their attention focused on keeping her safe, keeping her moving forward. Dustil, however, was an entirely different story, his attention was fluid, watchful. No, they'd fight through this. 

'Very well. Such is a fine decision for one as strong and worthy as you are. He would have never made it. I await you.' 

She managed to push beyond the skirmish, through the security door and onward into the main corridor beyond. It was just as she remembered, dark, shadowed, lit by sullen crimson panels,echoing and ominous. Just as the Leviathan had been. “Do not listen to it, Dustil. It promises much, but exacts a huge payment for its services.” 

“Understood, Master.” He seemed to be fine, fine with his surroundings, fine with her lead. Malak had not been when he'd stepped onto these floors, but Dustil had been spared...

Dustil had been spared, that was enough information. She cut the attempt down in a moment; no, she wasn't even going to try. She wasn't even going to wonder, to give chase to a memory she would never catch. All that mattered was the here and the now. All that mattered were the people standing with her, not the ones that had fallen in the past. Dustil would not break here because he had been spared what Malak and she had not been spared. She could guess part of it, the war, but there was more. There was always more. And she was willing to just let that be. 

“Ha. Turrets. Now we're talking!” Canderous unlimbered his assault rifle and drew a bead down the corridor, filling the air with rounds and noise, the smell of battle. It stirred up Sarah's soul more than the sterility of a lightsaber ever could...that was everything that meant war to her. It got her blood up, it pushed away the doubts, the murmuring of the Star Forge, everything and pushed that one deep button in her make up. She was a warrior. A general. At her best in combat up to her eyeballs and nostrils. It had been why she could not have turned away from the Republic's pleas for her aid, this same Republic now fighting just beyond the Star Forge's superstructure. She had come full circle, here and now. 

She broke into a run, ignoring Canderous's shots flying over her head. He wouldn't hit her. He couldn't. Where there were turrets here, there would be... Her steps became bounds, and she gave into a graceful, flying dance as she made first contact with the Sith coming up behind the turret wall. The force would not put her in the wrong place...

So many, the dark was illuminated by the glow of crimson lightsabers, and she instinctively ducked her head, creating a smaller target. She'd always managed to make her lack of size a blessing, rarely a curse. She had to make enough room for Dustil here...she could feel him behind her, pressing for an angle and finding none that didn't have her right smack dab in the middle of it. It was time to climb Sith faces. 

She sprang up, planting a foot on the elbow joint of the nearest Sith's lightsaber arm to her, her next step was up to his shoulder. He was a big guy, and he did exactly as she hoped...he didn't collapse under her less than impressive weight. It did force his forearm down and his weapon with it, narrowly missing cutting himself with it. 

Take him, Dustil. 

He did and the man staggered under the combined assault, collapsing underneath her. She used that impetus to move herself down and forward, clearing the way for Dustil as she hit the next Sith. These were outclassed, where was Malak hiding the good ones? Were there any good ones anymore? 

This isn't nearly enough, Malak. You're going to have to do a lot better than this. Of course, he had the Star Forge at his disposal, he could do a whole lot better than this. She couldn't get cocky, she couldn't get ahead of herself. She wasn't coming into this like she'd come into so many other things, with an army, a fleet, and a fully trained Jedi Knight at her side. Dustil was good. He was better than she could have ever hoped for him to be at his age, with his background, but he was still something she had to use carefully and sparingly. Otherwise, she'd have to go rescue him and that was nothing she really wanted to do. Or worse, she'd lose him...and that was truly nothing she could handle. If she got Carth's son killed in this, there would be no recovery from that. And more...Dustil was her apprentice, her family. It was all part of the package. 

I just want to bring them home. And to do that meant she had to fight her way through this. The last one fell to one of Dustil's sweeping attacks and she turned, waiting for the others to deal with the turrets and catch up. 

It was easy to 'remember' the way, to let her feet carry her to the elevator, to push the button headed up. None of the elevators went all of the way, it was a security measure...they'd have to take this one up. Then move to the other one. 

And go get your gift...in the Armory. 

That was the voice which had brought her through this so far, not the Star Forge, but either herself, or the force. Or both. If it thought she wanted, needed, that promised gift then she needed to at least take a look at it. And 'Armory' sounded promising. Very promising. “Left out of the elevator, we're headed for the command armory on that floor first.” 

Canderous grunted in an affirmative, but she expected nothing else...no self respecting Mandalorian would argue against going to an armory on space station like this one. He'd never see another one in his life...there was no other one. The door slid open and she sighed. More Sith. Another turret. She was moving the moment the door was open far enough to let her free, she was the smallest, fastest, she needed to draw fire away from the cornered Carth and Canderous. Well, by the time this was over, Dustil would have had his baptism in fire. 

These were fools, tried and true idiots. The majority of them stood in front of her, their backs to the abyss which housed the Forge's central core, the edge just about four meters behind them. 

And.. push. She waved her hand, clenched her teeth, and called upon the force. They toppled the moment the force push hit them, clawing at the decking as she continued to push them towards the edge...and over, into the abyss...into the Forge itself. There was silence for a long moment, she sensed Dustil fighting back laughter. 

“I see that the Builders did not design their supery dupery space station to Republic safety specs.” Carth muttered loudly behind her and that was it for Dustil. He broke into gusty laughter, incongruous to his circumstances and surroundings. 

“No. They did not.” She breathed, shaking her head. Well, time to go see what the Star Forge thought it had to bribe her with. And why that voice in her soul seemed to think it was something she should have. “Armory is this way.” 

It was right where she thought it should be, a small armory, filled with lockers, weapons racks, computer terminals and a holo emitter. Why? What? She watched Canderous head for the weapons racks like a moth to a bug light, her attention focused for traps, something...anything. She turned slowly, and froze, staring into her own frozen eyes. 

“Uhhhhh...” She breathed, feeling the attention of the men jump to her. It was Revan. The robes. The mask cradled in her hands. Her face. An image formed by the holo emitter, paused into stillness. 

“Voice match. Begin play.” The emitter's 

The image unlocked, moved, breathed and it was one of the most unsettling things that Sarah had experienced in her short memory. It was her, only a terribly wrong, twisted version of herself. 

“So you have come. I have returned to the Forge.” And that was the tone that Carth labeled as her pissy voice, deep, grating, unpleasantly filled with rage and threat. And his reaction to this horrible mockery of Sarah was fully open to her, he was broadcasting pain, horror, utter grief. 

This is not me. I reject this. Was this what I supposed to see here? My gift? A warning? To see what I let happen to myself so that I never let it happen again? 

“Can I call myself stupid? Why, why, why have you returned here? Something...something must have brought me back. Important. You...I...would have never returned without an imperative. So I have a gift for you, me. Why, I do not know. I can only assume that you do. Now, it will be in the bin behind you. And good luck. Revan out.” 

And it was blessedly gone, vanished. The ghost of her past winked out, leaving behind silence and held breaths. 

“Huh.” Canderous stated loudly, breaking the spell with the grace of a true Mandalorian, “That's pretty fucked up. Whatever happened to you after you left Malachor, it was not good, ad'ika.” 

“I can see that.” It didn't really matter what was in that bin, Sarah understood what the true gift here had been. Maybe it was something important, maybe it was just a ruse to convince her to record that video to show herself what hung in the balance here, without understanding exactly what she'd done. She moved to the bin, touching the lid. It was locked, but it clicked open after it read her biometric signature, the tray sliding out. Or maybe that was simply the bow...because resting on black velvet before her were the gifts. 

They were beautiful, two lightsaber crystals...one pale yellow, one completely clear. Forged from the very star itself. 

No. Every gift from the Star Forge was suspect and came with a great price. She couldn't take these.

There will be no price to pay after the Star Forge is no more. And if that doesn't happen, you will have no use for the lightsabers these were meant to be a part of. They are yours. Sarah's. Not Revan's. One way or the other.


	74. Chapter 74

Bastila stood on the observation deck of the Star Forge, her eyes locked on the battle before her, but more and more of her attention drawn into the station behind her. 

Sarah had come. Bastila had known that before the station wide alerts had gone off, but now her proximity was undeniable. The question was, what did Bastila intend to do about that, if anything? She wouldn't have come alone, Sarah did nothing alone. She relied on her backup and she almost always had a deep bond with those she fought with...it was a weakness that could be exploited. If she'd brought Carth with her, she could be made to see the truth again, not the lies that she'd been programmed by those fools on Dantooine to believe. 

Who had Sarah brought with her? Canderous, probably. She viewed him as the rock his name truthfully proclaimed him to be. There was no way he'd accept being left to babysit the ship on this run. He'd want to be in the thick of things and Sarah understood his mindset. She'd bring him. Carth? Less of a probability, his place was with the ship. Sarah had often protected him, both as her lover and as the irreplaceable crack pilot that he was. Mission? Probably not. And Sarah didn't tend to bring Zaalbar either, trusting him to watch Mission instead. 

'There are three men with her.'

Three? Three? Where had Sarah come up with three men? Canderous. Carth? And...? No, the Star Forge must be mistaken. Or lying, it did that sometimes. 

“She needs to be reminded of who and what she is.” It had been a crime to have broken Revan, she was needed. Needed here, and she needed to be whole. Bastila had played a part in a devastating crime that needed to be atoned for. She had to make things right again. “What does she want?” 

'Uncertain. She is hiding that from me. All I get from her is that she wants Malak gone.'

“Well, that makes two of us.” Her time here had shown that Malak was sliding under the weight of being the Dark Lord of the Sith. Every time she looked at her own situation through the lens of her battle meditation, that fact was clear. Even if Sarah didn't get him, he'd implode sooner than later. “Revan was in her rightful place as Dark Lord.” Until Bastila had helped destroy that. 

'What do we do?' 

“We hold the fleet battle to a stalemate until she gets here.” Sarah was nonnegotiable. Everything told Bastila that; the force, working through her battle meditation, her heart, her soul. Malak was beyond their reach, but Revan was not. And somehow it was all tied to what they'd stolen from Revan. They'd fucked it up so very, very badly. Bastila just wished she understood how. But the longer she stayed here, the murkier it became. The first few days here, it had been clear and vibrant, Revan had been working on an imperative when she'd arrived here. Everything she had done was because of that goal. And then she'd lost touch with it, she'd left the Star Forge in an attempt to regain her perspective. That was what Bastila needed to do. But first she had to manipulate the battle to her own ends...right now that was to hold it in neutral. A holding pattern until she could measure Sarah's will, to see if that one had started to make sense of this again. 

'You and she together would be unstoppable. Together, you could fulfill the purpose that that brought her here.'

Yes, whatever that was. Unfortunately, Bastila didn't believe that Sarah remembered it. Why hadn't she just had faith in her? Why had she allowed herself to be used against her own master? None of this would have happened had she simply refused. Sarah would have not been startled on the Coruscate's bridge, and that had been the distraction that Malak had used against her. Sarah would have simply crushed the strike team and gone on about her business. But she'd recognized Bastila, she'd faltered in her attack and that had been the opening, the weakness, that had brought her down. I was used. Sarah's been used. Damn the Council. Damn them all. Damn herself. She should have known better. She just had to get to a place where...

The door opened behind her and she froze, sensing Sarah. Carth. Canderous. And a stranger, a force adept stranger, standing in the opening. 

“Bastila.” Sarah's voice was calm, soothing and very, very comforting. Bastila gathered her courage and turned. Sarah stood in the front of the group, warily between the men with her and Bastila. She's slipped, but has not fallen. Korriban did not break her. Her eyes were bright gold, but she didn't breathe of the dark side, her complexion was pale...but it was her natural paleness, not a reflection of the dark side on her outer visage. Unsurprisingly, she had Canderous on her left side, full armor, full weapons, glorying in everything he had been raised to be. The surprise was the young man on her right side, offset and slightly behind her. He was the other force adept, the power burned steadily within him and Bastila took his measure silently. Padawan? No...no one would have given one of those to Sarah and even if they would, there had been no time for it, but he definitely had a lightsaber hilt in his hand. Apprentice? It was much more likely, she'd been to Korriban and the Academy. But he felt so familiar... When had she met him? How could she have met him if that was where he had come from? He had black hair, dark eyes, thick brows, and he was more than willing to kill her, unlike the three with him. 

“You've replaced me?” That was something she'd never considered. And it was so offhanded to simply pick up an apprentice in what little time that Sarah had been on Korriban, so desperately unlike her. And to trust him enough to bring him here, it didn't make sense. 

“You know you cannot ever be replaced, Bastila. We are bound. You were my padawan. I helped raise you. I love you.” She began to walk towards Bastila, slowly and deliberately. “But you are to the point where you no longer need me to be your master any more. When we make our way out of here, I will petition the Council for you to undergo your trials. I want you to stand beside me as an equal. It is his time to learn from me.” 

“But who is he?” There was more here than was apparently. He fit in more than just being an apprentice picked from Korriban...

Sarah turned her head to study him for a moment and he remained respectfully silent. “Dustil is my stepson.” The words were solid and without embellishment or a half truth. “Carth's son.” 

Many of Carth's features but none of his coloring, that was why he was so damned familiar. And it explained everything. Completely. “You need to stay here with me, Sarah.” Bastila had the chance to finally make it right, make it up to the woman she loved. “Together, we can depose Malak, take back the Star Forge. We can remember why you needed it in the first place, before you ran from it. We can free you from the Jedi. They used me to break you, and I...I...” Her voice caught on the first hint of a sob. “I know now that you were here for something. You were doing something, and it was important. I should have trusted you!” 

Sarah stopped in front of her, resting her palms on Bastila's shoulders and gazing up at her. Her proximity chased away the Star Forge's murmurings, the weight of Malak's insanity, all of it. She brought a placid distance from the chaos and uncertainty. “Breathe, Bastila. I have come like I promised I would. I held you up as long as I could. And now, I really do need you to trust me. And to follow my lead.” 

“Of course. What do you need?” The thought of not doing as she asked was so distant that Bastila was barely aware that it might be an option. She was back and everything was going to be just fine. Trust. Follow. 

Sarah leaned forward and the since of privacy and isolation deepened as she rested her forehead against Bastila's, their breaths mingling, her fingers twining into Bastila's hair. “Turn the tide.” She whispered. “Against Malak. And then return to the Ebon Hawk in the small craft dock below this level. I still have to deal with Malak before I can leave. Do not listen to the Forge, it lies. It manipulates. It's why I ran from it.” 

It's why I ran from it. 

“And it's going to have you, Bastila. You shouldn't hear it anymore. And it shouldn't hear you anymore. Enough of that.” She continued, stepping away from Bastila. She was right, it was silent. Now all Bastila felt was the dark sided energy coalescing within the Forge's depths and it felt as repellent as it should. 

Turn the tide. She had the majority of the main Republic Fleet out there, the fleet she'd played a large part in bringing here. They deserved better, they deserved her at her best. It was time to do her job. “I've got this. Good luck.” Sarah was going to need it, but Bastila couldn't do both things at once, she couldn't do the battle meditation to yank the Republic fleet back from the brink and help Sarah face down Malak. It had to be one, or the other. And she was the only one who could save the fleet. “Do you know where he is?” 

Sarah paused and then nodded. “Yes. I know where he is. Not far now.” She smiled, more of a grimace of pain than a true smile. “It's not like I go to do this alone, Bastila.” 

Yes, you do. But you already know that and you're putting on a brave front for Carth and your new apprentice. I won't ruin it. 

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

Sarah turned from Bastila, sensing her settle down and begin to actively use her battle meditation, shutting down from her surroundings. It was, as she'd said, not that far now. And she still had Canderous, Carth and Dustil, even though the force told her she would face Malak alone. Was it because she was supposed to leave someone here to protect Bastila? She was vulnerable in this state, open to attack or distraction... No. It was something else. She could feel Dustil watching her, weighing her, but she had no answer for him. “Let's go, but be careful. Because...” Because why? It was dangerous and she wasn't exactly sure why? They knew the first part and the second part was useless information. “I love you. All.” 

“Humph.” Canderous muttered. “The only way out the ass is through the throat, ad'ika. Now isn't the time to waver, you fight with your family and we have your back.” 

“How right you are, ori'vod, how right you are. It's been one hell of a ride.” Just a little bit farther. She met Carth's eyes, he was silent but unbowed. Everything about him told her that, she saw it, she felt it. Dustil as well. And Canderous, well, she knew the Mandalorian mindset. It was a beautiful day for others to die. 

The corridor beyond was silent, empty and she regarded it warily. “What is it, little one?” Canderous asked in Mandalorian, his voice low and she shrugged. 

“Trap? I don't know. Something is wrong.” She answered in the same and he made a noncommittal sound, moving ahead of her, his shields ripping in the light, his pace slow and deliberate. But they reached the end with no issues at all, even the alert lighting and sirens were off here. But they'd been off in the room with Bastila...she was just being jumpy. Another security door, left unsecured, and a matching corridor, just as silent. Just as empty. I don't want to go in there. But she had to. There was no other choice. She stepped into the corridor, shadowed every step by the hulking Mandalorian. It'll come in the middle...it'll come in the middle.

No, it came at the beginning, the ear popping, blinding concussion of a flash bang grenade. She was moving before her mind had the chance to comprehend anything at all, her lightsaber ignited and swinging. Nothing alive...there was nothing alive...droids packed into the walls...turrets. Too many. There are too damned many. 

This was where it all ended, months later and just meters from Malak, she couldn't believe it. How had thought this was even possible? But with Bastila, the fleet still had a chance. She just needed to buy time. More time. That's all this was. She stopped thinking, stopped acting and let it all go, in a timeless state of reaction. There were too many rounds in the corridor, friend and foe, to even consider trying to dodge them. Canderous had gone full auto, showering the corridor with fire and grenades while she worked the area immediately behind him, hitting the droids that made it through. 

Agony lanced through her and she staggered, stumbling into the Mandalorian. He stood like a rock while she clung to him, trying to clear her head. She'd been shot. She'd been shot, and it was bad. She needed to vomit, to fall over. 

“Dad!” Dustil's voice went through its entire range, from almost adult male tenor to a prepubescent shriek. 

No, it was worse than she'd thought. She hadn't been shot. Carth had been. 

How? He'd been towards the back, but there were a lot of loose rounds flying. A lot of ricochets screaming by in random directions. The how didn't really matter now. All that mattered was that he was down and she needed to get control of the situation immediately. 

You all just need to stop now!

There was silence, and then a sudden rocking explosion that knocked her back on her heels. The corridor filled with acrid smoke but the shooting stopped. 

NononononononNO!

She spun. Carth was seated on the decking, Dustil crouched next to him. He was still up. Still conscious, but she could smell the blood seeping from between Dustil's fingers as he tried to stem the flow. “I'm okay, Babe.” 

That would be a whole hell of a lot more convincing if every syllable wasn't a gasp and if his complexion wasn't shocky pale. “Canderous, the med kit...” 

“I'm on it. Where's he been shot at?” 

“Left abdomen?” It was difficult to tell, there was blood flowing in the seams of his lower armor, in his lap. 

“Hip.” Dustil corrected tersely, his teeth locked together. “He got hit by a ricochet. I didn't answer it quickly enough.” 

You can't wait here. You're doing exactly what Malak wants you to do and you'll be ground down here with the next wave, and then the next. This is why you have to do this alone. 

“Carth, I love you but...” 

“You have to go.” Canderous growled, squatting next to Carth and using his combat knife to slice his pants away. “Leave me to watch your family, Revan. I will guard them while you can't. Go!” 

 

I can't. But I have to. If I don't, I might as well just let him bleed out here and then follow him. 

She took a deep breath, turned her back on them and ran to the next security door. It opened easily but closed immediately on her heels when she stepped through. And in the silence of the expanse beyond, the snick of the locking mechanism was as loud as a scream.


	75. Chapter 75

And she was alone in a large, vaulted room, well lit for the Star Forge. She'd give anything, everything, to just step back a couple of meters...to be there with them, her family. Her beloved, when he needed her the most, but she couldn't. She had to go on, and she had to do it quickly. Now it wasn't just the fleet getting chewed up, people she didn't know dying for this. Now it was all too close. And even if she wanted to, she couldn't. That door was locked behind her. 

“The only way out the ass is through the throat, ad'ika.” 

There was a hum, a gathering light and one of the stations along the wall came to life. She stared at it warily, igniting her lightsaber. There was another door, open at the other end of the bay, teasing, beckoning, but she knew better. She'd never make it in time before it crashed down and locked. She was exactly where Malak wanted her to be and it wasn't going to be easy to get out of here...wherever here happened to be. 

A flash, and a security droid appeared in the station. And in each of the other stations, the same gathering light...the same working hum. It had taken the Star Forge just seconds to produce the one...she took quick stock of her situation. One security droid was nothing. A dozen was a mild challenge, but a dozen every five seconds...

Shit. She powered into her combat form. If she went with her first instinct, which was to attack the terminal attached to each station, it would do worse than nothing, it would lock the station into its last programmed mode. And that last mode was obviously expedited production. They'd never stop coming then. She couldn't just take them all on, the Star Forge had the capacity to create fleets of capital ships, keeping this working indefinitely would not even be a noticeable drain on its resources. But it would wear her into the ground. 

No, her only choice was to turn the stations off, one at a time, here through their terminals. They needed to be sliced. Which meant she would need to extinguish her lightsaber, turn her back on the droids, and do her damnedest to remember how...while the droids chewed her apart. Why hadn't she brought Mission? 

Even if you had brought Mission, she'd be in that hallway behind you right now, trying to deal with Carth. 

Probably true. No, definitely. She hit the first droid hard, she needed to peel these down before she got started on the first station. It was going to be... awful. Worse than the Leviathan. Hell, it was already worse than the Leviathan. For all of the pain he'd experienced there, Carth's life had not truly been threatened during the torture. That had been designed to be non lethal. She couldn't say the same about here and now. 

I need to remember how to do this. She took down six of the droids before she turned her attention to the nearest terminal, and turned her back to them. She had to just focus through the pain, and she had to do it without bleeding out onto Bastila or Carth. Bastila's focus had to remain on what she was doing, supporting the fleet. And Carth could not help shoulder this at the moment. It was all on her. And she had to do it without accepting the Star Forge's offer of aid. If she promised it anything, if she gave it that foothold, it would all be over. 

Agony again, but this time it was all hers. She focused on the screen, her fingers dancing over the input board. Let me in. 

It felt like it took forever, but she understood it was moments, less than a minute, to get the first one all sorted out and that station disabled. But in this situation, moments were a lifetime...she could feel blood trickling down her back, she could smell her own burnt flesh. But she remembered, and she was still alive, upright and aware. The next station would be a fraction of the time, as would the others after it. But now...she flicked her hand out and reignited the lightsaber; it was time to trim the numbers down again. 

 

It was the longest five minutes of this life, the one she could remember, but at the end of it, the droids had stopped coming and the door still stood open. Had there been worse than this during the War? On Malachor? Had she already survived something on this order before? She sank to her knees, fumbling with her pockets, aware that Malak was watching her through cameras, gloating, but she had to do something. The med pack and stim combo hit her like a charging bantha, crashing away pain and flooding her system with drugs all trying to do different things to her at once...many of them contradictory. All she wanted to do was sit there and tremble, but she couldn't. She didn't have the time or the luxury and she wasn't nearly done with this yet. 

I have to get up. 

She took a deep breath, forcing herself up onto her feet and stared ahead. Another fucking corridor, but this one was short and ended in another elevator. There better not be another trap here. Well, that was stupid. There probably was another one, and she'd just have to fight her way through it. 

If there was another trap, she didn't notice it, making her way to the elevator and heading up. She sensed it before she even stepped onto the level... Malak, but she was expecting that. What she hadn't been expecting was the sheer, oppressive weight of the dark side eddying through this area. She'd only sensed this a few times before and all of those were memories that slid away from her. They were the bandaged, isolated memories of how she had fallen. 

So the last time I felt something like this, I lost myself to it. Check. Alek, Alek, what have you been doing? 

Alek is dead. He's been dead for a long time. You can't go into this thinking he's still n there. No, she had to go in there to face Malak. To protect her family and support the fleet that she'd brought here. It was the only way out of here. It was the only way she was going to have what she truly wanted... a future with the man who loved her. A future with the man she loved. That man deserved what he wanted and she intended to fight to give it to him. 

The door opened and for a moment, it was all breathtakingly beautiful. All she saw was the view, the black backdrop of space, the stars, the glow of Lehon, and the fleet battle underway, just beyond those windows. 

Malak stood with his back to her, his arms folded over his chest. “Revan. I am...impressed.” 

Oh, great. We're gonna talk about this. But she needed to hear it. She needed to understand something that was inexplicable. Without that, she wasn't going to be able to do things she needed to get done. She needed to understand exactly what she was ending here, so that she could leave with a clear conscience. “Malak.” 

“There is more of you left in there than I was expecting. I was certain that the defenses of the Star Forge would destroy you but the Council did a superlative job.” He turned, staring at her out of those dark, blank eyes. Once, they'd been a depth of humanity, of heart, a reflection of a great soul. Now they were just dead. “It's been awhile since I've seen you, Amasri. But now you face the world with your own face, again.” 

The last thing in the world she was going to admit was that she'd misplaced it, her face on the world. The mask. A burden and a reminder of what she had once stood for...gone terribly wrong. She had no idea where it was. What had happened to it. “Why should I deprive the world of my magnificent visage?” 

“More like why would you hide from who you are best known as? This...” He waved in her direction, “Is more of a deception than wearing the mask ever could be. Do you honestly believe what the Council tried to imprint upon you? Do you honestly believe you can be someone, something, other than Revan? Wash your hands of it and walk away?” 

Yes. 

“I do not understand.” And he was still talking. Was that the point, to lull her into a false sense of security? To let her bleed out during this monologue that she needed to hear? “How you could have come through this. You are stronger than I thought, stronger than you ever were during your reign as the Dark Lord. I did not think that was possible.” 

Stronger? What the hell was he aiming at here? Why would he bolster her ego? Was he trying to pander Revan out of hiding? Play the sycophant to get the response he wanted? She could feel blood trickling down the back of her pants, into her boots...hardly the strongest she'd ever been and he had to know it. He had to sense it, didn't he?

“This is the end of it, Malak. You and me.” It was time to move this along faster, to get to whatever she was supposed to learn here, before she passed out. 

“Indeed. This time our confrontation can only end in death...yours, or mine. Once again, we shall face each other in single combat and the victor will determine the fate of the galaxy.” The unfortunate thing was that he was correct, and it wasn't simply hyperbole. If she didn't stop him here, now, the Republic would crumble. He lit his lightsaber and she sighed, following suit. Whatever she was supposed to have learned, she hadn't. Now, he wanted to fight. And she really didn't want to. He was uninjured and her fickle memories chose then to let her know that he'd always been a strong duelist, perhaps better than she had ever been. He knew all of her tricks, her style, he'd fought at her side for years. And she remembered nothing of his...

Your style was perfected fighting his. Of course you remember it. Small. Tucked low. He'll try to pound away at you, and you won't let him. He'll try to use his size against you, and you won't let him. He'll try to rock you back, force you into putting too much weight on your ankle and then overbear you to keep you there. 

She came out, not swinging, but spinning away from him, denying the first barrage of hits, protecting her ankle. His attack was odd, he was offset, he was expecting... he was expecting her to pull her shoto. Except she didn't have one... he was still fighting Revan. Not Sarah. She was the one who had changed. She was the unfamiliar one. She just had to ignore that she was injured, stop trying to out think the cocktail of painkillers and adrenaline she'd given herself and let it work. She had to move, she had to dance. The tail of her hair whipped around as she gave into it, parrying, flowing. He was big. Strong, but slow. If he got a solid hit on her, she'd be in trouble. But he seemed oddly willing to let her get hits in on him... It was like he really didn't care. He felt them, but they seemed unimportant. She could wear him down to the same condition she'd started at without much trouble. Something was very, very wrong here. 

She was expecting the knock back, the force push, and she rolled with it, hopping back up to her feet. It was the only tactic he'd used so far that made any sense at all...

“Not bad, not bad at all. You continue to amaze me, Revan.” He breathed, opening up space between them. More compliments. Why? He was moving towards what her mind had first categorized as yet another droid manufacturing station. She'd noted it, but her attention had been on so many other things, her senses dulled under the clamor of the wrongness in the air and the drugs she'd hit herself with. “If only you had been the one to discover the true power of the Star Forge you might have become truly invincible.” 

There was a form suspended in the station, and her stomach fell. That's not a droid. That's a person. I knew that person. That was a Jedi, from the Enclave. And that was why Malak was out of her reach now. He'd done things that she had suspected were possible, but she'd turned away from them. This is what I would not do. This is where I turned away. This is why I am redeemable and he is not.

“But you were a fool. All you saw was an enormous factory. All you ever imagined was an infinite fleet rolling forth to crush the Republic. You were blind, Revan. Blind and stupid!” 

No, no I wasn't. I saw it. I saw it all. You are the fool here. He'd given the Star Forge everything it had needed to consume him, to devour what had been left of him. And then he'd sacrificed Jedi to it. They were dead, but held here... their tie to the force feeding the Forge. And they would feed Malak through this. It would be like fighting all of them, their power flowing through him, overwhelming and terrible. She had to deny them to him, release them from this. She had to destroy them. This was what she needed to understand, and now she did. She jumped into motion, throwing her lightsaber ahead of her, ignoring any other words that Malak might have spoken. She had to stop this abomination. That was why she was here. Forget the Council and their machinations, this was why the force had seen her way here. She was responsible for this. It was her job to end it here. Only then could she be free to have that future.

The lightsaber throw was a good hit, bouncing back from the capsule to land in her hands... and the Jedi it had hit was gone, now truly dead and released. Next... she could hear Malak screaming at her, but she refused to listen. It was just words. Empty sounds. 

A flash, and jolting pain ate through the painkillers, the smell of ozone and storms...for a second it reminded her of...someplace, someplace familiar...home. Home. That city in the cut, hidden... and it was gone before she had to decide whether or not to take it. It was not an option when Malak was trying to fry her, but he was not going to stop her. She had to release them all before she could turn to face him. It was the droid factory, all over again, but this required skills she remembered and she could keep running, outpacing Malak...not a sitting duck. 

“You are a fool, Revan! You could heal yourself with them. I know that you're injured, I can see it. Feel it. Just open up to it. It's the only way that you can defeat me!” 

Bastard. You will not get me back that way. Carth...Let me be what Carth thinks I am, even if it kills me. Take your best hits while you can, Malak, because here I come. 

Up the opposite side, moving faster than she thought possible, back in that place of thoughtless grace and perfect responses. Back in her place with the force. An instrument of resolve, justice, protection. Not destruction. Not this. I am not Revan. 

She was slammed hard, lifted into the air and tossed before she made it to the last one. Shit. There was no good way to land from this, and she chose to land hard, flat on her back, rather than try to land on her feet and put that much force on the ankle that Malak was desperately targeting. The impact jarred her to her bones, knocking the breath out of her and she smelled blood, her own...while she laid there, stunned and winded.

Only one left. There was no way she'd stop him from getting there, but this gave her a moment to catch her breath and use the second med pack combo she was carrying. If I don't get back up, I'm dead anyway. 

Her heart galloped in her ears, the room swam, but she got back to her feet. It was time to end this. “Come on, Alek. Let's get this over with.” She 

“Yes, Amasri. Let us get this over with. Finally.” He came in for the attack and she watched him come. He was still, still going for her ankle. And maybe it was time to let him have it... She wavered, seemingly uncertain, and he went for it, extending his reach and slamming his weight down into the attack. She bowed slightly, sucking her arm and elbow in as closely as she could bring them, letting the stroke go by without parry. The sweep burned through her sleeve and a few layers of skin, but she wasn't there. He overbalanced, stumbling forward into her, the rosy blade of her lightsaber held at the ready. She was falling, but he was coming down with her... on top of her. Her elbow struck the decking, something audibly popped, but he had no chance of recovery from this. She could break every bone she had, bleed out right here, but Malak was a dead man. She hit the decking and he landed on top of her, impaled. It was fatal. He was dead. She'd done it. 

“A....masri.” 

Oh, please...stop talking. Not now. I...can't take it. I loved you. I still do. Just die in peace, please. 

“Alek.” He outweighed her by almost twice over, and he was a dying weight across her chest. All he had to do was rest his own lightsaber across her throat and end it, she had no chance of stopping him. Their very absence would determine the fate of the galaxy. 

“I'm...sorry. I don't know what happened. What went wrong. I loved you. You know that.” 

“Yes. I know that, Alek. I love you. And I am so, so very sorry that I brought you here, to this.” And then it was just over. He was gone, back to the force, where he belonged. My friend. She struggled to move him, and when she finally managed, she had nothing left to give. It was over. She curled up on the deck next to him, burying her face in his side and sobbing. There had been a time when her deepest held dream was very close to this, to die at Alek's side. The thought of living without him had been a horror, a nightmare for the coldest nights. And now, she had been the one to kill him. Was it fitting that he be the one to kill her? 

No. You need to get up. 

“Out of the question.” She muttered it aloud, but why the hell the not? There was no one alive here to hear her. She could hear the sound of her own blood hitting the sub-flooring. She was dying. 

Carth will not leave you here. If you don't get your ass up and move, he will die here. Canderous swore to you that he would protect your family. He will not leave Carth to die. Bastila will come after you, but she's been successful. Look out of those windows and gaze upon the death of everyone you care about. 

She opened her eyes, staring straight ahead. Those were Hammerheads, maneuvering into a firing position on the Star Forge. 

You can curl up and die later. Get up. Leave Alek and go. 

She staggered to her feet, tearing her eyes from Alek's corpse and staring at the second exit. She had to go. They weren't going to die here because of her. They hadn't done all of this to die after succeeding...

“Canderous.” Her voice sounded almost normal when she keyed her mike. If he tells me Carth is dead, that's it. I am done. I stay here. “Malak is dead. The Republic Fleet is maneuvering into firing positions on the Star Forge.” 

“Oya! We'll get flyboy back on his feet and we'll get the hell out of here.” 

“Sounds like a plan, ori'vod. I'm on my way.” She cut back through the droid factory, ignoring the dark glistening patches on the decking. None of it mattered. She was going to have to walk herself out of here...it was probably going to take both Dustil and Canderous to get Carth out of her quickly enough. And sure enough, they both had him up, each with one of his arms slung over their shoulders. He looked pale, washed out, but he was alive. Conscious. And when they saw her, they hiked him up into a basket carry. 

“Hey, babe.” Carth gave her a lopsided smile and her stomach knotted. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell any of them, yet. 

“Hey, flyboy. Come on, we don't have all day. I'll bring up the rear, Bastila will take the front when we pick her up. She couldn't lead... it would be too obvious from the back. 

It was terribly slow going, but it couldn't be helped. Bastila was pacing, twisting her hands in her tunic and muttering loudly to herself when they appeared, and there was nothing faked about the utter relief on her features. “We don't have much time. They've already started to fire on the Star Forge. I've been messing with them to give us time, but...” 

“You did just fine, Bastila. Lead the way out of here.” 

Such a long way. It hadn't seemed that way when they'd fought their way here...so silent. So empty. Sarah bit her lip and pushed to keep going, listening to the bombardment growing louder, feeling the Star Forge superstructure shake under the assault. She had never seen anything more beautiful in her entire memories than the Ebon Hawk on the docking bay, her engines idling, turned around to run, her ramp down and Zaalbar anxiously on watch. 

“They're here.” He called over his shoulder and the engines pitched louder. 

“Carth, take the pilot's seat.” It wasn't optimum, he had the same vaguely glazed look in his eyes that she felt in her fuzzy brain, but he was still their best pilot. And they needed that for just a little bit longer. 

“Aye, aye, General.” Yup, he was a little slurry and goofy. Hopefully he was a great drunk pilot because they were going to need him to be. She watched them go, Canderous and Dustil still supporting his weight, the others nervously following. Sarah simply brought up the ramp, closed the iris and walked slowly towards the med bay. She'd done it. They'd done it. All Carth had to do was get them the hell out of here and it was truly over with. 

“Ad'ika?” Canderous was moving quickly, much more quickly than she was, and he caught up with her just as she made it to the med bay. He had managed to get Carth into the cockpit and he must have run back here, probably for supplies. “Are you...shit.” He grabbed her, swinging her up into his grasp like she weighed nothing at all and depositing her on the main bed in one swift turn. “You are not dying on me.” He growled under his breath. “Not now. Not here.” 

She couldn't seem to hold her eyes open anymore, all she wanted to do was drift. She was safe. She was back... The engines caught, and the ship screamed out of the docking bay, the impetus throwing Canderous off balance and into the nearest bulkhead. “Listen to him.” The Mandalorian spat, “Listen!” He must have tuned the med bay comm into the cockpit, she could hear Carth muttering to the ship as he piloted. “You are not going to leave him alone again!”

He has Dustil. He's not alone. I gave him that.

“What the hell is...oh, fuck. Is she dead?” Dustil's voice rose from the doorway. “She can't be dead. She's Revan, for fuck's sake!” 

“She's not dead. You're not dead, are you?” The sound of rending cloth and the touch of air on her skin. Then cold liquid and a quick jab. Damn Mandalorian. 

“Ow!” 

“Carth, you made it!” Dodonna's voice, here? No, she was picking up the transmissions from the cockpit, from Carth. If she didn't hang on, he'd lose another woman he'd given himself to, on his watch. She couldn't, wouldn't, do that to him. There would be no terrible story late about how he'd held his second beloved as she died in his arms just as his first wife had. 

I am not going to die. I refuse. I will not go. I am Revan. I have cheated death before, and I will do it again. 

“She's stabilizing, somewhat.” Dustil's voice was laced with relief. “She still needs a real med bay. So does my father. One of those capital ships must have one...” 

“We wouldn't let you start the victory party without us, Admiral!” Carth's voice, triumphant, enthusiastic, it was a joy to hear, a balm to her battered soul. 

“What the hell did you give him?” Dustil groused to Canderous, his hands gentle as he patted down sensors onto her bare flesh. “He's toasted.” 

“You don't want to know. It'll fade off in a couple of days. A week at the most. But you are right, they both need a better med set up than we happen to have here.” Sarah could feel him reach over her and depress one of the communications buttons. “Admiral, this is the Ebon Hawk's med bay. We are declaring a medical emergency and requesting immediate transit to a vessel able to receive our wounded.”

“Understood, Ebon Hawk. Reroute to these coordinates and expedite. Hospital ship Huerta is on standby in fleet pocket... her comm staff will pick you up the minute I drop this conversation. Good luck.” A slight pause, while Dustil held her fingers...his hands were so warm. 

“What's going on back there? Where's Sarah?” All of the slurry levity was gone from Carth's voice, he sounded almost sober and an edge of panic colored his voice. 

“We've got her back here in the med bay. She's hanging on, but do us all a favor and get her to a real hospital. Now fly while I talk to the hospital ship... Yes, Huerta, this is Ebon Hawk, we have two wounded...one critical. One serious...” 

She opened her eyes, gazing straight into Dustil's very dark stare. He gave her a lopsided half smile, exactly as his father did so often. “Hold on.” He whispered, “You need to stay. For my Dad. For me.” 

“I'm not going anywhere.” It felt very far away, but once again, Carth was flying with high speed and pinpoint accuracy, pushing the freighter to her limits. 

“Mission! When we land I need the iris open and the ramp down as soon as possible. Go! Bastila, there you are. I've done all I can for her, I'm going to go herd flyboy now. He's gonna try to hit the deck running and we can't have that, either.” 

“Of course.” Bastila brought a flow of calm with her while Canderous squeezed by her and out into the corridors. “Sarah.” She breathed, resting her forehead against Sarah's. “The Star Forge is gone, you did it.” 

It was? Why hadn't she felt it? Was she that bad off? Or was Alek's loss so encompassing that it drowned out everything else? “I killed him, Bastila.” 

“I know. There was no other way, Sarah. He was too far gone from us, it had to be done. But now you just need to rest, recover. Marry Carth. Live happy. You've earned it.” 

I've earned it. We've earned it...


	76. Chapter 76

Carth Onasi stared out of the screen of the air taxi he rode in, his expression calm but his mind was full. This was not how he had imagined this, dreamed of it when Sarah had slept next to him, but then those dreams had never dwelt on the idea that hospitals would be involved at the end of all of this. It was a stupid thing to overlook, to never even consider, but he hadn't. He'd supported the decision to bring Sarah here, to Coruscant, to have her cared for in the safety and security of the Jedi Temple. It had only been after he'd agreed to that when he'd been told he would be sent to Brentaal to finish his recovery and then to go through a seemingly never ending series of meetings, conferences, briefings and debriefings. 

Save the Republic only to drown in paperwork. Paperwork to cover the entirety of the missions. Paperwork to cover Mission. Paperwork to cover Dustil's recovery. Paperwork on the Ebon Hawk. Paperwork on Canderous. And he was well aware that at least some of it was to give him time away from Sarah, to give him an opportunity to see things without the weight of her abilities pushing on him, to digest what had happened and to grasp what he wanted to happen in the future. But if they thought, hoped, that he was going to change his mind, they were sorely mistaken. 

“Here you are, sir.” 

Yes, that. He growled under his breath, fighting to get out of the taxi and manage everything he had at the same time. It had been one hell of a morning, arriving on Coruscant, finding out where Sarah was, doing what he needed to do, but he was here. He fought the bags, his cover and his cane into order and managed to almost gracefully step out onto the platform in front of the hotel that Sarah had taken refuge in. Almost. He felt the attention of the two ensigns on the street immediately and he fought down another growl. His most recent haircut had shown the first strands of silver through the hair on his temples. He was still using a cane...something that his doctors feared might turn out to be permanent. And he was in uniform...he'd had a long and well decorated career before he'd gone off with the Endar Spire and Bastila. There were rumors now of more to come, but those were still just that...rumors. The Admiralty was still trying to make sense out of it all, comparing reports, ticking off boxes. But none of that mattered to Carth, if he received the Cross of Glory, then he did. If he didn't, then he didn't. The real prize for him was in that building and she was something he intended to fight for. 

“Sir? Do you need a hand?” One of the ensigns asked uncertainly, torn between approaching the highly decorated captain and the obvious fact that yes, Carth could use another hand. Or two. 

“If you have the time, I would appreciate the help.” He answered, biting down his pride. 

“Of course, sir!” She moved quickly to his side, gathering up two of the bags, obviously catching sight of the flowers in one and the cake in the other. Her companion took the other two bags, standing silently to the side. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than where he was, and while Carth commiserated, the kid was just going to have to learn how to deal with the brass. It was a little hilarious to consider himself part of that, but it was true enough. 

They followed quietly in his wake, the young woman felt like she was bursting with questions. The hotel was beautiful, graceful, exactly the sort of place he would have chosen to put Sarah if it had been his choice. It became worse when the three of them packed onto the elevator and the heady smell of some of the finest food available in this sector of Coruscant filled the car, the flowers providing an airy undertone. 

Yup, kids. This captain's on a hot date. Well, about as hot as either one of them was going to manage. If Sarah was holed up in a hotel, then he'd just have to bring that dinner he'd promised for weeks to her. He smiled, this dinner had taken on a nearly mythological state in his mind, but here he was, in an elevator on Coruscant. Alive. She'd brought them all home. He had his life back, his son back. He had hope again. 

He hit the bell at her door, listening for her even though he knew that a hotel this nice would have sound proof rooms and doors...but he could feel her approach like a storm front coming in over an ocean. She threw the door open, launching herself into his chest. “Carth!” She breathed, burying her face into his coat. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, babe. Got here as quickly as I could.” He turned to the ensigns, not at all surprised that the young man still had his silent expression and that the young woman was doing her best to not smile. “Thank you both for the help. Sorry to take up your time.” 

“Not at all, sir, ma'am. Not at all. Enjoy your day.” The two ensigns turned, walking away and Carth gathered up half of the bags while Sarah snagged the other two and followed him into her suite. 

“Nice. Marry a hutt crime lord when I wasn't looking?” He asked, setting the bags on the table and pulling out containers. They breathed their scent into the room and Sarah took a deep, appreciative sniff. 

“It's where the Temple put me when I told them I needed space and time to sort things out on my own. Bastila comes by once a day to make sure I'm okay and to check my back, but other than that, I've been pretty much left to my own devices here. Thinking. Waiting for you. Seeing if anything has changed...”

“And has it?” It killed him to ask, but he had to know. Everything had happened so damned fast. He understood how what they'd been put through could cause false bonds to form. She'd been alone long enough to start seeing through them if that was so. He had to know. They had to go there before they could go forward. If there was a forward for them at all. 

“No. I love you, Carth Onasi. If you'll have me, I mean to stay for as long as I can.” She paused, frowning for just a second. He recognized her expression and he knew better than to ask, simply laying out the plates from the bottom of the bag. She didn't have the answer for his question and all it would do was disturb her. Whatever it was, she didn't have access to it. 

“I love you, Sarah. Nothing has changed for me. I want to marry you. I want to have a family with you. And...” He pulled the flowers from the bag and presented them to her with a sweeping motion. “I brought that dinner I promised. Uniform.” He tweaked his coat slightly, “Flowers. Wine. Dessert. And the finest Telosian cuisine on Coruscant.” 

“You're a keeper, Carth.” Whatever the shadow had been, it had passed, her eyes widening when he pulled the magnificent cake out of the bag. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat, watching him. “You look pretty good, considering. But the cane?” 

He shrugged out of his coat, resting it across the back of a nearby chair. “Maybe short term. Maybe long term. Maybe permanent. The doctors are still in discussion mode there. Why, it turn you off?” 

“No. Just concerned. You're alive and that's all that matters.” 

“Yeah, pretty much covers it all. You're alive and Dustil's alive, Mission, Canderous, Bastila, Zaalbar. We got out everybody we could.” He knew Malak was a sore point and would always be a sore point, just like Karath was a sore point and would always be a sore point. 

“How was Brentaal and the Admiralty?” She asked, opening a container and dishing a large spoonful of its contents onto her plate. She was thin, she needed to eat and he was happy to see her willing to fill up. 

“Meetings, interviews, investigations, briefings. They declared me MIA, had to clear that up. Had to go over every step of the path from Taris to Lehon, at least what I thought they should know.” Not one single time had the name Revan come up, except as history to the map fragment path. Every time she'd been mentioned by the Admiralty, by the Jedi who were present for all of these meetings, she'd been referred to as “Jedi Knight Sarah.” And that was exactly how he had chosen to refer to her as well. If the Admiralty didn't know, he wasn't going to be the one to tell them. If they did and were willing to overlook it, he wasn't going to be the one to draw attention to it. He wanted a life with Sarah, and if the galaxy was willing to let Revan die, it was fine by him. 

“Hmmm. How are the kids?” 

“Fine, fine.” While Bastila had stayed here with Sarah, it had made sense that he be the one to take custody of Dustil and Mission...Dustil had been obvious but Carth was on stronger legal ground than the mockup of a person called Sarah was to make the first set of requests when it had come to Mission. He was uncertain how fine a job that the Enclave had done with the creation of Sarah's fictitious background... he sensed that the decision to put her on the Endar Spire had been made quickly, in desperation. Sarah had been in bad shape when she'd been brought to Coruscant, he'd been in better shape. He had a duty station and housing, Sarah did not. 

It seemed almost awkward to sit here with her and not have the imperative to find and end the Star Forge threat. They'd always had that push, that subject, that reason to be and be together. But it was a wonder as well. They finally had the time and the space to actually get to know each other without that hanging over their heads. And she was so damned beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her. He'd almost lost her.

“Would you do it again? I mean, if you knew?” She asked, twirling noodles around her fork and coating it in sauce. Her eyes were still golden, not as bright as they'd shone on the Star Forge, but they had not returned to their usual gray shade. 

“Absolutely.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. “I mean, yeah... I got beat up. Tortured. Shot. And I'm really getting too old for that shit so hopefully someone else is the next poor sucker tapped to save the Republic, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat to get what I got from this. I would have done it for just you. I would have done it for just Dustil. It gave me hope. It gave me a family. And that's all I've ever asked for, Sarah. It's all I ever needed or wanted. Have some wine. Have some cake and stop dwelling on it. We're exactly where we hoped and prayed we'd be at, and this is that date I promised you way back on Taris. Remember that?”

“Yes. I remember that.” She chuckled, watching him struggle with the wine bottle until he was successful in getting it open and pouring her a glass. “I'll stop moping.” 

“Good. Moping is my job. Not yours.” He followed it up with a thick slice of cake. “We are going to eat, drink and spend some time together.” They'd done it, but he'd been in battles before...Malachor... where others had celebrated their victories for them, but those actually there did not. And for Sarah, the Battle of Lehon was going to be one of those. Let the Republic celebrate their victory for them...their celebration was that it was over and that they were all still alive. Sarah would celebrate that, but she would never celebrate killing Malak. 

He ate until he couldn't consider eating another bite, his progress followed by hers. She packed down two plates stacked high with food, a slice of cake and three glasses of wine before she let out a giant yawn and swayed in her chair. “Sorry.” She muttered, “Not sleeping really well lately.” 

“That makes two of us.” The ceaseless questions had worn him down, always measuring exactly what he should, and more importantly shouldn't, say had exhausted him. His injury bothered him. And the emptiness of his bed had tied all too well into nightmares he wanted to forget...waking up sweating and panting after dreaming that Canderous had not managed to hold onto her, that she had bled out in the Ebon Hawk's med bay. That he hadn't even been there to hold onto her and tell her goodbye, like he had with Morgana. Those had stalked his nights. “Let's just go to bed, okay?” 

She smiled at him, standing. “Sounds good.” She breathed, leading the way into the bedroom, shedding clothes as she went. She helped him out of his and he climbed into the cool sheets, the warmth of her body pressed against his, her breath on his shoulder and the weight of her proximity a balm to his nerves. It was fine. It was all just fine. He could sleep, she could sleep. It was over. From here they started a new life, a new story, together. 

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 November 2013-10 October 2015
> 
>  
> 
> AN- I don't even know where to begin. As most of you know; My Pillar, My Beacon was supposed to have been a 30-40k prologue for another fanfic. Obviously that did not quite work out as intended. If someone would have told me in November of 2013 that I would spend almost two years writing what basically became a novelization of Kotor with an M rating and a few things changed, I would have called them crazy, but I am obviously the crazy one. 
> 
> But I couldn't have done it without the help and support of a whole lot of people... first, was my son who told me to play Kotor in the first place. The second was my spouse, who ended up putting up with a two year obsession with a huge amount of grace... I love you, I really do. Another person who put up with this obsession with a huge amount of grace would be MizDirected, who was always there for support when I thought I had bitten off more than I could chew and who offered a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to my crazed ramblings. You are the greatest! And the rest is for all of you...those who proved me very wrong when I told myself that no one would want to read this. Your support and reviews made all the difference in a lot of places. 
> 
> HA.


End file.
